


Lost Behind The Fading Light

by teenwolf24



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Magnus Bane, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malec, Prince Magnus Bane, Royal Magnus Bane, Servant Alec Lightwood, asmodeus is evil but we’ll see where it leads, brief maryse lightwood, brief robert lightwood, evil aldertree, evil asmodeus bane, king asmodeus bane, rape is discussed so if thats a trigger for you pls be careful, self-sacrificing lightwood, selfless alec lightwood, slave alec lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:09:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenwolf24/pseuds/teenwolf24
Summary: When Alec offers himself up to prince Magnus Bane as a sex slave in order to save his siblings, he doesn’t expect to spend his days just talking about himself and falling in love with the prince. After the controlling king Asmodeus takes an interest in using Alec for his sexual duties, it’s clear what lengths Magnus will go to in order to save his slave-turned-boyfriend.They are lengths that will make Asmodeus regret ever even glancing in his Alexander’s direction.(I’m awful at summaries, feel free to just read a bit of the first chapter and see if you like it!)Title taken from “Don’t Tell Me” by Ruel <3





	1. Keep Us Safe Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! I’m back with my longest fic yet and I really hope you enjoy it!  
> I’ll be posting the chapters as often as possible as it’s nearly finished, all kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated more than I can possibly describe <3

“You know what happens now,  _ traitors _ ,” King Asmodeus spat. Robert and Maryse both hastily broke eye contact with their king when they registered the malice in his tone. Maryse risked a glance at her three children, who were shackled and had been forced to kneel before the King. Izzy and Jace looked scared, but she could see her eldest boy trying to hide it underneath his blank soldier demeanour. Trying to mask his fear from his siblings- to protect them from it. “I cannot allow treason to go unpunished,” the King continued, “And what is the best way to deter my people from following your example? Show that their  _ children _ are the ones who will be punished. We will take the adopted one, and he will be executed at sundown outside the Edomian castle. That is all.” Asmodeus turned on his heel and made to leave.   
A raw, broken sound escaped Alec as the words sunk in- they were going to kill his brother, his  _ parabatai _ . Tonight. The Lightwood boy saw Jace clench his eyes shut next to him against the raging emotions that Alec painfully felt secondhand through the bond, heard the sob that Izzy could not quite stifle as it worked its way to the surface. Guards dragged their parents away, and Izzy craned her neck to catch their stony expressions; but no empathy could be found from the couple whose actions would result in the execution of one of their children. Most likely, Robert and Maryse Lightwood would be banished to the outskirts of the city, where the poorest Edomian residents lived in precarious, flimsy huts built from the rubbish of the inner city. The door slammed behind the pair with an air of dim finality, and she turned back to the dismal scene playing out before her.   
“Your Majesty,” Alec began, desperately. “Please, take me instead, I-I will offer no resistance, j-just please, don’t take my brother.”   
Asmodeus stepped down from the dais he had been standing on, his son- the Prince Magnus Bane- shadowing his father’s movements. Alec took the few seconds he had before the King reached him to assess the young Prince who stood proudly, his hair spiked with glittering silver threaded throughout. He wore a navy suit with silver buttons and cufflinks complimenting the lacy embellishments on the shoulders. He looked like the royalty he was, with charcoal smoke accentuating the golden green irises blazing beneath his eyelids. It has been centuries since warlocks had been forced to conceal their warlock marks, and the Edomian royalty wore their marks with pride. Alec noted that the Prince’s luminous eyes looked guarded as he watched his father with a sort of detached caution, like he was expecting danger at any moment. The young Lightwood wrenched his gaze away from the captivating Prince, and returned to looking at the King, who stood directly in front of Alec, his own cat-eyes burning down into the Nephilim’s.   
“Are you challenging my verdict,  _ boy _ ?” Asmodeus boomed, one eyebrow raised questioningly.   
“Brother, no. It’s-  _ I’m _ not worth it. Parabatai please, don’t do this,” Jace begged, eyes frantically searching his brothers for a sign that he would drop this act of self-sacrifice. But Jace knew, deep down, that Alec wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t even  _ consider _ letting one of his siblings take the blame for something that wasn’t their fault, despite it not being Alec’s fault either. He felt the desperation through their bond, and knew it mirrored his own emotions.   
A cough from behind the King drew the sibling’s attention to the Prince. He stepped forward lightly, until he was level with his father, two pairs of identical, glowing cat-eyes flicking between Alec and Jace.   
“Father, you cannot sentence one half of a parabatai pair to death. You know as well as I do that that is a death sentence for the other half also.” Prince Magnus’ voice was carefully even, and his eyes were trained unwaveringly on Alec’s face.   
The King hummed, before setting his sight on Izzy and striding over to her. He gripped her chin harshly, forcing her to look at him as he tilted her visage this way and that, contemplatively. Fury flooded the parabatai bond from both men, as they saw their sister helpless to escape the King’s venomous touch.   
“This one then. Although she is far too mesmerising to execute. Magnus, what do you say we add her to my harem? She’d be a beautiful addition, no?” The Prince paled slightly, and glanced fleetingly in Alec’s direction, studying the young Lightwood’s hate-filled eyes boring into the King before Asmodeus continued. “I may even let you share her from time to time.” Jace and Alec growled but the King chuckled, before dropping his hand from Izzy’s face. Jace caught sight of tears trailing his sister’s face and he struggled against the restraints.   
“No, execute me. You don’t need to change the sentence, and you wanted to execute me, right? Go ahead,” Jace snarled, struggling to refrain from yelling. Asmodeus tilted his head in mock-contemplation.   
“But where’s the fun in that? Better for me to gain some usefulness, and I find  _ plenty _ of uses from my harem,” the King sneered, as Izzy flinched.   
“I can be useful,” Alec said, simply. “I can serve you- in any way you need.”   
The King’s eclectic taste in who he shared his bed with was no secret, and Alec steeled his nerves as he accepted what Asmodeus may find use in him for. He would rather be a sex slave than have the repulsive man violating  _ Izzy _ in that way.   
Asmodeus leered at Alec, motioning for a nearby guard to unchain him. The young Lightwood flexed his wrists and stood up, hands held behind his back in the posture typical for a trained Shadowhunter. The King circled him like a vulture, looking him up and down, and Alec forced himself to stay unmoving under the critical examination. The Prince stayed where he was, eyes never leaving Alec’s. The Nephilim couldn’t decipher the emotions on Magnus’ face- they were somewhere between pity and pride.   
“I could certainly think of a few ways that I could put you to use,” Asmodeus guffawed. “But that position is already taken by my personal body slave. You are too defiant for the harem- and yes, there are males there too. Pleasure is pleasure, after all. So I will have to politely decline your offer,” he raked his eyes over Alec’s torso. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I will take your sister instead.”   
Alec thought he heard “Like  _ Hell _ ,” grumbled from his parabatai’s direction, but he wasn’t sure.   
“I will take him as my body slave.”   
The three siblings jerked their heads up to look at the Prince, who was looking at his father. Magnus’ face was blank, but his cat-eyes flickered with indecipherable emotions. 

“Yes, I thought you might. Fine, take him as your sex slave. That concludes today's sentencing. Put him to good use, son, or else I may just have to come and sample the goods myself.”   
Alec looked down to see Jace’s face fall and Izzy’s eyes fill with tears.   
“I will give you a moment to say goodbye to your siblings, and then we will return to my quarters,” the Prince said monotonously. Alec detected the silent task that returning to the Prince’s quarters would entail, but he simply nodded with reluctant acceptance. The King and the guards left, until just Magnus and the Prince’s green right hand man were left.   
The green man had been standing behind the Prince, and at his asking he unshackled his brother and sister and the three of them group hugged, a tangle of arms as well as emotions. Izzy pulled back after a few seconds, crying openly.   
“It’s- it’s not fair. You always give everything up for us. Please don’t, big brother. I can’t lose you, not like this,” she begged. Alec’s heart gave a painful clench; he never wanted to be the cause of her upset, but he couldn’t live with himself if he’d left her to the mercy of Asmodeus’ harem.   
“I’m sorry,” Alec mumbled, blinking back tears of his own. He felt a pang through the parabatai rune and met his brother’s eyes. Jace looked destroyed.   
“Parabatai,” Jace’s voice cracked over the syllables. “I-I can’t . . . not after everything. You know what’s gonna happen, right?” His voice turned sharp, and Alec felt the anger through the bond. The older Lightwood detected that Jace’s anger was aimed at himself, for not being to stop Alec from sacrificing himself. “You know what  _ he’s _ gonna to do to you?” Jace spat the word ‘he’ venomously, shooting a pointed look at the Prince, whose expression was unreadable once again. A wall of stone.   
“Of course I do, Jace!” Alec snapped. “But it was your execution or it was Izzy’s servitude to the King, and I can’t let you two get hurt, okay? I  _ can’t _ . I would die before that happened.”   
Jace’s shoulders slumped as he picked up the fear and shame through the bond, and Alec pulled him into a tight embrace, their foreheads touching.   
“Look after our sister, and yourself too, alright?” Alec whispered.   
“Of course,” Jace answered as they pulled apart. “You look after yourself as well, brother.”   
Alec laughed wryly, “I’ll try.”   
“Time’s up,” the Prince said, neither forceful nor gently.   
“We’ll see you soon, big brother,” Izzy promised, and even though they all knew it was a lie, and that Jace and Izzy would never be able to get visiting permission to the castle, they all nodded and shared one final group hug.   
*** ***    
Alec stood there and watched his siblings leave until they disappeared from sight. As soon as he could no longer see them, he let the tears fall, every heaving and ragged breath painful as his chest constricted with despair. The Prince coughed subtly, and Alec exhaled shakily and prepared to pull himself together.   
When he turned, he saw the Prince watching him carefully, something akin to concern marring his features, mouth pulled down in a small frown, and eyebrows furrowed slightly.   
“Your Highness,” Alec said flatly, bowing to his new master.

“Please, just call me Magnus,” the Prince said, quietly.   
“Yes, Magnus.” The tone he used to say ‘Magnus’ sounded no different to the tone he used to say ‘your Highness’, but Magnus didn’t challenge him on it- he just sighed resignedly.   
“Follow me then, and I’ll tell you your new duties,” the Prince said, and Alec felt his stomach twist at the thought of being used for unwilling sex. He noticed a tremor develop in his hand, and when he looked up to follow Magnus, he noticed that the Prince had seen him shaking too. Alec pulled his hands together behind his back, slipping into his soldier demeanour like second skin. Magnus’ right-hand, an average height man with green skin, rolled his eyes at the exchange.   
“Let’s get moving then, shall we Magnus?” From the man’s tone, he could tell that there were years of friendship between them and noted that he must be on his best behaviour in front of the green man if he reported back to the Prince. Magnus nodded tightly, and they left the dais in favour of the royal castle of Edomia.   
Alec couldn’t help the anxiety he felt fizzing through the shared bond on its way to Jace.


	2. Words Don’t Come That Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a discussion of rape and a panic attack in this chapter so if that’s triggering for you please be careful!

The royal castle of Edomia was large- taller and wider than the Lightwood residence (was it still Lightwood residence now the family was disgraced and his parents had been banished to the city’s outskirts?), and made of grey stone with oak panelling for aesthetic effect. Green vines snaked up the walls, some even reaching the top window of the turret in each corner.   
He saw little movement through the windows, and absently wondered if there was a large population that lived within the castle walls. He figured that he would find out soon, anyway.   
They crossed the drawstring bridge connecting the castle and the rest of Edomia over the moat, motioned through by the guards when they recognised Magnus and his little green friend. Alec got stopped as they asked for a visiting pass, but the Prince merely waved his hand, grabbing an identification pass out of thin air and handing it to Alec. The Nephilim stared at the purple sparks as they morphed into the pass- it was his first time ever seeing magic being performed firsthand. He felt wary as Alicante’s narrow minded views on magic niggled away at his mind but found no reason to fear the element. Absently, he considered if Magnus might use his powers to restrain the Nephilim during the time when he would be used for his body, but hurriedly shook the notion from his head when he felt the clench of anxiety in his stomach.

“He’s with me, and is to be treated the same as the rest of the Royal staff, are we clear?” The Prince’s tone was icy. “He is not to leave the castle unsupervised.”   
The guards nodded, and Alec felt his heart sink as he realised he would have to sneak out of the (highly-guarded) castle in order to see his siblings, which would be near impossible.

He’d never be able to see them again.

As they walked briskly through the courtyard, he noticed every eye on him: the merchants at the food stalls, the stable hands, the other staff members, the guards. They all eyed him up like prey, and he suppressed a shiver. The Prince noticed the looks, and glared at all who looked Alec’s way, sending them scurrying. The young Lightwood couldn’t help but smile wryly at their fearful reactions.   
When they entered the castle, they wound their way through a seemingly endless amount of corridors- passing kitchens and doors and windows and paintings- until Alec felt disoriented. When they finally reached a wide, oak door, Magnus held his hand against it, closing his eyes in concentration.   
Alec watcehed curiously, until the green man turned to face him. “The Prince needs to alter the wards in his quarters to permit you entry. There are keys to his other rooms, but his bed chamber door can only be opened by touch, if his Highness gives you permission. It will only open if you have no intention of harming the Prince.”   
The Nephilim felt himself blanch at what was being insinuated- he was being given permission to enter Magnus’ bed chamber. Oh Angel, Alec didn’t know if he’d really thought this through. He also picked up on the green man reverting back to ‘your Highness’ and ‘the prince’ now that they were back in the castle.   
When Magnus stepped back, he turned to Alec.   
“Place your hand to the door, it should open for you.”   
Alec did as he was told, and the door swung open. Magnus glanced at the green man and said “Well, that answers that question, doesn’t it Ragnor?”   
He noted the name Ragnor.   
The Prince’s right hand nodded begrudgingly, “It does, although it doesn’t mean that he won’t change. I still don’t think you can trust him yet, your Highness.”   
They entered the room, and Alec kept pondering what Ragnor had said as he shut the door behind them.   
“You can trust me. Your Highness,” Alec said, knowing it was of the utmost importance that he not be mistrusted straight away.   
The right hand grumbled to himself, and the Prince smiled at the young Lightwood. It was a sweet and innocent smile, one that Alec struggled to correlate with the man that would shortly be using him for his body.   
“I know,” Magnus replied, and there was more certainty there than the Nephilim thought was warranted.   
Alec nodded.   
“Well, your Highness, I have important business to attend to regarding that letter you wished for me to send. Enjoy the rest of your day,” Ragnor said, bowing to the Prince before exiting the room.   
An uneasy silence filled the room when the door shut behind Ragnor. The Prince noticed the tremor in the younger man’s hands, before catching the anxiety flickering beneath his hazel eyes. The Nephilim shifted under his heavy gaze.   
“Is there something wrong, your Highness?” Alec asked, uncertainly.   
Magnus sighed before answering, “Nothing’s wrong, I just wish that you’d call me Magnus.”   
Alec nodded.   
“So, do you have any questions?” The Prince asked, as he sat in a comfy looking armchair overlooking the bustling courtyard through the adjacent window.   
The Lightwood boy sifted through the millions of questions littering his brain but decided that it would be safer not risking asking the wrong thing. He shook his head no and Magnus rolled his eyes- he knew that his new staff member was lying to him.   
“Total transparency with each other, ok? We need to have trust if this is going to work.”   
Alec nodded. The Prince watched the boy closely, asking him “So . . .  _ do _ you have any questions? I’ll answer as honestly as I can. Total transparency, right?”   
“Total transparency, Magnus” Alec parroted, with an incline of his head.   
“Ask me something,” the Prince said, standing up and slowly walking towards the Nephilim.   
“Um . . . what’s your favourite colour?” Alec kicked himself and then belatedly realised that he’d forgotten a title, adding it on hastily: “Magnus.”   
“Dark red, the same shade as the sands of Edomia. Also, when I said to call me Magnus, I didn’t just mean use it instead of your Highness, I just meant . . .” The Prince shrugged, a strangely normal action for somebody so composed. “Don’t just tack it onto a sentence for the sake of it. Use it how you would for a friend.”   
“We aren’t friends,” Alec retorted, before he could think his words through. Magnus stepped back quickly, breaking eye contact.   
“Oh Angel, Magnus I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean it like . . . ” Alec choked off as panic bubbled up his throat. How had he let himself mess up so quickly? ”I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me, and- and Magnus, please look at me,” the Prince looked back up with his luminous golden-green eyes. “I had no right to say that, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”   
Alec’s heart was pounding, how could he have made such a big mistake already? Would Magnus get rid of him now and force Izzy to serve Asmodeus? How could he have been so  _ stupid _ ? He felt himself start shaking, a mixture of fear and nerves and he saw Magnus’ eyes soften.   
“It’s fine; you’re right, after all. We aren’t friends, but I’d like it if we could be, would that be okay with you, Alexander?”   
Alec’s eyes snapped up at the sound of his full name, the elegance of the vowels and consonants dripping off the Prince’s tongue like honey.   
“I take it Alec  _ is _ short for Alexander?” He asked, and Alec nodded. “Would you prefer I call you Alec instead?”   
The Nephilim considered this briefly and found that, surprisingly, he didn’t mind being called Alexander. Not if it meant he got to hear Magnus pronounce it that way.   
“I don’t mind,” he answered honestly. “And yes, I’d like us to be friends too, your Hi- Magnus.”   
“Ask me another question; something you  _ actually _ want to know the answer to,” Magnus sat back in his armchair, one leg crossed over the other, his cheek resting against the blinkered sides of seat. He looked genuinely interested in what Alec would be asking- much to the Nephilim’s bafflement.   
“Will I ever be able to see my siblings again?” Alec asked quietly, eyes trained firmly on the floor.   
“In all honesty, that depends on you,” the Prince said. “If we learn to trust one another, I may be able to send you on an errand to their part of town, maybe give you a little extra time than the errand strictly requires, if you catch my drift?”   
“Thank you,” Alec breathed, voice light with gratitude.   
“Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’ll try to never make you do something you don’t want to.”   
_ Try _ . Alec knew exactly what the Prince would force him to do, and the thought of it suddenly invaded his body; throat closing up, stomach clenching, violent shaking. He felt his knees buckle and he slid down the wall to the cool wooden floor and placed his head between his legs, encouraging himself to breath regularly. The grating noise of chair legs against the wooden floor caught him off guard, and his breath hitched again, images of what his duties would entail racing unbidden through his brain.   
“Alexander!” Alec’s head shot back up to meet the glowing irises of the Prince, who was knelt beside him, peering at him with panic and concern, arms flapping uselessly as he motioned towards him. “How- how can I help? What do you need me to do?” He placed the back of his hand against Alec’s forehead, and the boy jolted at the touch, scooting along the floor, away from him. The Nephilim’s eyes were wild and fearful- fearful of  _ him _ , so the warlock twirled his hands, small blue sparks fizzing out of his fingertips and floating gracefully around the Lightwood, who looked at them in wonder.   
The situation had finally clicked for Magnus, and he cursed Lilith for not making him realise sooner that Magnus had said he’d take Alec on as a  _ body _ slave, the boy didn’t know that it was just a way of helping Alec save his siblings. No wonder the poor boy feared him and his touch. Alec thought that Magnus was going to  _ rape _ him. The Prince lifted his arms up in surrender, and cautiously shuffled closer, making sure he was clearly in Alec’s sight at all times so as not to startle him.   
He noticed that the boy’s breathing had evened out in the small distraction his sparkling magic had helped make him.   
“Alec?” Magnus said gently, and the boy focused his infinitely hazel eyes on the warlock’s face, trying to decipher the intent.   
“I’m sorry,” Alec mumbled, a single tear escaping one eye and idly tracking down his cheek. “Please don’t bring Izzy here instead,  _ please _ . I-I’ll be better.” Magnus lifted a hand to wipe it away, and noticed Alec clench his eyes and reluctantly brace himself for the unwanted contact. The Prince dropped his hand immediately.   
Nobody should have to accept a touch they did not want. 

“Please, don’t apologise. And I promise you I won’t bring your sister here. Unless you’re an assassin, in which case I will definitely be swapping you,” the Prince said with a chuckle, and noticed a shy smile graced the boy’s lips as well.   
“I’m not an assassin, I promise you,” Alec said, lightly. “And thank you.”   
Magnus stood and entered his ensuite, grabbing a washcloth of the finest Edomian flannel, and dousing it in cold water. When he returned and handed it to Alec, the young Lightwood nodded his thanks, and wiped his brow shakily. Magnus clicked his fingers when Alec was finished, and the washcloth returned to the bathroom, dried and folded.   
The Prince sat next to Alec, leaving a comfortable amount of room between them as he too leant against the wall.   
“I know why you’re panicking, but I promise you, I would never do that to you. To anyone, for that matter. I won’t be using you for your body  _ or _ for sex. You have my word, Alexander.”   
A hollow laugh escaped Alec, somehow both condescending and pitiful simultaneously. “Complete transparency, your Highness, if I may?” He asked, voice bordering sarcastic.   
Magnus ignored the formal title and nodded at him, guessing exactly where the conversation was going.   
“That’s not what I’ve heard about you,” Alec said, evenly. No emotion was betrayed by his voice.  “I’ve heard you simply take what you want.”   
Magnus looked away, cheeks flushing a deep red with shame.   
“That’s not true, Alexander. I know who you’re referring to, but Camille  _ lied _ . I never did that- never would do that. It was an  . . . unsavoury breakup, and that was her revenge, making up lies that I’d raped her.”   
“I just . . . there’s so many rumours,” Alec sounded lost and a little desperate for answers- for Magnus to tell him that none of them were true. But most of them  _ were _ true.   
“I can’t tell you that they’re all lies, because of our agreement on transparency. And it’s true, I have bedded men, women, seelies, warlocks, werewolves, vampires . . .  even a djinn or two, but it was all consensual. Nobody was pressured and either party could stop at any time, no questions asked.”   
Alec nodded, slightly overwhelmed. He was a  _ virgin _ and here Magnus was, reeling off a whole list of categories of past companions. “Sex is about love, however fleeting. As I’m sure you know, you can always tell when a man can sense the ‘love’ part of ‘lovemaking’.”   
The Nephilim paled, before spluttering “Man? I-I’m not . . .-“   
“Gay? Oh, darling Alexander, no need to be embarrassed. I’m bisexual, so what?” Alec spared a moment of awe as he saw this strong man before him, the Prince of Edomia, so proud and open with his sexuality. Alec had come to terms with his sexuality a long time ago, confiding in Izzy and Jace when he was 13 and they had greeted the news with love and support. Still, he hid it from everyone else. His parents didn’t know, and by the Angel, the Nephilim academy ‘Alicante’ could never find out. He was set to be taking over on his 25th birthday, and had worked hard to keep his sexuality secret, yet Magnus had just  _ known _ . And Magnus hadn’t judged him. Magnus had validated his . . . preferences.   
“You can’t tell anyone- please, your Highness,” Alec asked, voice tinged with desperation. “I know I have no right to be asking things of you I just . . . please.”   
“Your secret is safe with me, I promise. I just hope that you know this doesn’t make you weaker or- or lesser in any way, it’s not unnatural or anything else that you may have heard it described as. And I hope you have people you can confide in, when the time is right for you. I know the Nephilim are less than supportive about anything they don’t understand or experience, so remember that anything they have described our sexualities as is  _ wrong _ .” Magnus sounded truly bothered by the idea of Alec not having anyone to support him, and that notion sent something strange surging through his body, like tiny electric sparks.   
“My siblings know,” Alec said, quietly.   
“And by the looks of today, it made no difference to them,” the Prince said, and Alec could hear happiness threading the man’s voice at the thought of their acceptance of Alec’s sexuality.   
The Nephilim smiled as he relived their reactions and couldn’t help but share the story with Magnus.   
“Izzy rolled her eyes when I told her, she said she couldn’t believe it took me so long to realise, and Jace just whacked me over the head and said ‘well, duh. You think I haven’t known that since you checked out Hodge Starkweather’s ass when you were 11?’. It felt like some massive weight had been lifted, you know? They’re the only people that I would never keep secrets from, and to be able to be so open with them . . . it’s nice.”   
“They sound like wonderful people.” The Prince sounded wistful as he stared at the wall opposite.   
“They are,” Alec agreed, heart clenching painfully as he noticed he had omitted Max from all mention of his family. Guilt flooded him as he remembered taking his youngest brother out for in-field training at Alicante, and the vicious attack from Circle members that had cost him his life. He had sworn vengeance on the entre Circle- a group of rebels who believed all of those who refused to join them in the fight against all magic wielders -even the innocent-  deserved death. When they had asked Alec and Jace to join them a few months prior to Max’s death, the parabatai had turned them down instantly, unwilling to murder innocents for a misguided political opinion. Max had paid the price of their decision, and both men had never forgiven themselves.   
Alec realised he had been lost in his thoughts, and hastily asked “do you have any siblings?”   
“I had siblings, 8 of them. But I’m the only one left now,” Magnus’ voice had turned cold.   
“I’m sorry for your loss.”   
“Oh, they aren’t dead,” the Prince laughed a forced, empty laugh. “But they may as well be. They betrayed my father, one by one, and he threw them into the lowest reaches of the spiral labyrinth as punishment. No magic, no sunlight, complete solitary confinement for the rest of their immortal lives; it’s worse than a warlock’s worst nightmare. I haven’t seen them since, and it’s been 800 years.”   
Alec turned to face the Prince, startled. 800 years? Magnus didn’t look a day over 25. Magnus caught his confused look and smirked. “It’s all in the skincare regimen.”   
A bubble of laughter escaped the Nephilim, and Magnus’ face lit up with a beaming smile at the younger man’s unguarded response.   
A split second later, Alec forced himself to return to neutral, his usual soldier scowl on his face. He couldn’t afford to be so relaxed, not when the lives of his siblings were at stake.   
Letting down your guard was how you made mistakes. 

“You said you were going to tell me my duties, Magnus?” His voice was monotonous, betraying no emotion, and the Lightwood caught Magnus’ face fall, even his glowing cat-eyes seeming to dim slightly. Alec hated that he already cared so much about the Prince being so upset, but he hated being the cause of it even more. The royal had just defied all the rumours Alec had grown up believing, and he found himself eager to learn more about what sort of man Magnus truly was.   
“Yes, of course,” Magnus replied, voice wavering slightly. “I often get swept up in my work- I run a pro bono magic business, offering help to the mundane Edomians that need it- and forget that I need to take care of myself as well. My dear friend Catarina works in the infirmary as the leader, so we both try to ensure the other has been eating and sleeping enough, but our system normally fails. Your main duty will be to keep an eye on that. General cleaning is done by other staff members, so no need to worry about that. You’ll also be expected to pick up our breakfast from the kitchen in the morning and we’ll eat in my chambers with Ragnor. You’ll have to run the occasional errand for Ragnor, and my father may also have a few tasks for you here and there if his own staff is already working.”   
Alec nodded.   
“Is there anything you want to ask, Alexander?”   
Alec froze- of course there was a question he wanted to ask! He took a deep breath and just decided to go for it, as quickly and consicely as possible.

“What, er, what are my duties as your . . . body slave?” He stammered, hearing blood rushing in his ears as his hands started shaking slightly again.

“There are no duties like that Alexander, I promise you. I said you were my body slave because I already have servants, and that was the only position I had available because I don’t agree with the notion of keeping an unwilling person in servitude for sex. But I could see how badly you wanted to save your sister and parabatai, so I decided that you could fill that position. You are your own person, Alec, and I won’t ever take you for your body. But the people at the castle, especially my father, will need to think that I am using you like that, or else Asmodeus will came and . . . put you to use,  _ or _ he’ll kick you out and take your sister for his harem.”

Alec paled at the prospects, but nodded his understanding to Magnus, “So if anyone asks, you’re using me as your body slave, but just between us you never actually will?”

“Yep,” the Prince answered, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“And where, uh . . . where will- am I,” Alec stammered, as Magnus arched a brow at him in teasing. “Will I be sleeping in your bed?” he finally blurted.   
Magnus froze momentarily; he found himself wanting this innocent, caring man staying with him in his chambers, but he knew how uncomfortable that would make the Nephilim feel, and he couldn’t bring himself to put Alec through that.   
Yet he also knew that Asmodeus would be keeping an eye on them, wanting to ensure that Magnus was making proper use of his ‘body slave’. Would the King make true on his word and rape Alec if he knew that his son wasn’t? Would it be safer for Magnus to make Alec share his bed, just for sleeping, in order to keep Asmodeus away from him?   
The warlock didn’t know.   
“I- I don’t know how to help you, Alexander,” Magnus said, thinking aloud. “I don’t want my father to know that I won’t be following through on your body duties, because he needs to think that I’m . . . you know. If he thinks that I haven’t used you in that way then he will come and take you whenever he wants. I don’t want my father to hurt you, Alec. I want you away from him, so I know that you’re alright. If we share a bed, rumours will be spread about what everyone thinks I’m doing to you, and that will keep him away. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I think it might be best if we share my bed. I promise you, Alexander, I won’t try anything. I  _ promise _ .” The Prince hoped that Alec would trust him- would know that Magnus just wanted to protect him from the brutality of his father.   
Alec had been watching Magnus carefully throughout his whole speech, and the Nephilim could almost feel the sincerity of the words. Plus, if Alec was honest with himself, there were much, much worse things than sharing a bed with Magnus Bane. Especially as the Prince had promised that he wouldn’t force himself on him. The prospect of Asmodeus  _ sampling the goods _ , as he had so eloquently put it earlier, terrified him- especially compared to the kindness and gentleness of Magnus’ mannerisms.   
“Ok,” Alec mumbled, cheeks heating red. The Prince noticed that the younger man looked resigned, his eyes betraying how tired he was, and felt a thousand times worse about putting the Nephilim in this position. He’d lost his family, been stripped of his status, and would now be forced to share a bed with a stranger. A stranger who, up until a few moments ago, Alec had thought would force himself upon him.   
The world was a cruel, cold place sometimes.   
Magnus stood and pulled the curtains as the sun dipped below the castle wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, pulling the light down with it, and coaxed a fire into the fireplace with an elaborate twirl of his hands. When he turned back around, he saw the naked wonder in Alec’s eyes.   
“Not seen much magic, I take it?” Magnus asked.   
Alec shook his head, “You’re the first person I’ve ever seen perform it, it’s . . . it’s beautiful.”   
“I’ve always liked the term ‘performed’,” Magnus mused, laying on top of his bed covers fully clothed, and staring up at the ceiling. “Because it’s true, I do perform with my magic; give it a little elegance when all that’s truly needed is the point of a finger. Especially in my business. The people in dire need of my magic always seem more comforted when they can see it. A woman once asked if I could cure her son of chickenpox, but seemed more satisfied when I coloured the magic, so she could see it moving through his body.” The Prince gestured for Alec to lay beside him, and the Lightwood begrudgingly complied, leaving an appropriate amount of space between them. “Want to see some more magic, Alexander?”   
Alec nodded enthusiastically and Magnus grinned, before suddenly splaying his hand, fingertips pointing straight up at the ceiling.   
The younger man watched, transfixed, as fireworks escaped the warlock’s index finger, fizzing into the air before erupting into colour with a bang. More fireworks escaped, dancing around the Nephilim’s head as they dipped and dived like sentient beings, a myriad of colours merging and blending into one like sunlight through a diamond. The Prince turned his head to catch Alec’s expression, and was pleasantly surprised by the open awe shining in his eyes, a shy smile playing at his lips. The fireworks reflected in the Nephilim’s eyes, like he was being lit up from within, and Magnus looked away, feeling like he’d intruded on a private moment.   
“Magnus, that’s- your magic is. . . it’s so beautiful,” Alec breathed, sounding like a kid in a candy shop.   
“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus answered with a sincere smile, “and we best be getting to bed. I have a client in the morning and various other things to do. Oh, and I have a meeting next week that you will need to accompany me to. I would try and get you out of it, but tradition demands I present you to my associates.”   
The smile died on Alec’s face as the awe melted away from his eyes, and Magnus felt himself yearning to bring it back, to keep that youthful innocence on Alec’s visage for as long as he could.   
“Yes, Magnus,” Alec murmured, before looking around in embarrassment. “I- er. D-do you have anything I can, um, wear, you know . . .  to bed?”   
With a sharp click, nightwear appeared neatly pressed and folded on the bedcover, and Alec nodded at him gratefully, before scurrying into the bathroom to change.   
Magnus took his suit off by hand as Alec changed in the ensuite, brushing a hand along the garments when he was standing there fully naked, watching them float into his wardrobe with satisfaction. He bent to pick his bedclothes from under his pillow when he heard a strangled choke from behind him, and spun round to investigate.   
Alec was standing there a vivid scarlet red, eyes glaring at the floor even as he hurried to flee back to the relative safety of the ensuite. The door shut behind him, and Magnus walker over to it. He spoke through the wood and knew that the Nephilim would be able to hear him. 

“Alec, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were back- I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Warlocks care far less about nudity than Nephilim do, and I forgot that. I’m sorry.”   
Magnus pointed one foot and rotated it in a full circle, silk fabric wrapping itself up both ankles, making its way up his body as it sewed itself into new nightclothes with blue sparks sizzling around the warlock like an aura. A split second later, Magnus was fully clothed, and the redness was gently seeping out of Alec’s cheeks as he opened the bathroom door and reentered the room.

They both got into bed silently, cautious of making contact with the other as they attempted to get comfortable. They eventually gave up, Magnus curled up on his side, back facing Alec, who was laying stock still on his back.   
“Good night Magnus,” Alec whispered.   
“Sweet dreams, Alexander.”   
*** ***

The next few days and nights passed similarly. In the day, the pair continued building their tentative friendship, in between Magnus’ work at his business and Alec’s work of voluntarily tidying the Prince’s chambers. The Nephilim often struggled with following Magnus’ wishes of calling him by his first name, and although they were constantly in conversation, it was rarely anything personal or intimate. Alec had learned a lot in the week he had been at the castle- most predominantly that Magnus was nothing like how he had imagined, he was sweet, and patient, and kind, and Alec cursed that they couldn’t have met in different circumstances. That he’d really had a chance with the older man. At night, Alec longed for his siblings, but tried to find solace in the safety that the warlock offered. 

The most recent night, Alec had laid there until he heard that Magnus’ breathing had been evened out for a few hours before easing himself out of the Queen-size bed as silently as he could, praying to Raziel that the warlock wouldn’t wake. He tiptoed to the ensuite, gently slowing the door behind him so it didn’t slam. When the door was closed he slid down the wall to sit on the cold tile floor in pitch black darkness of the room. He held his head in his hands as his shoulders shook with sobs that the boy refused to release.   
He wanted Jace and Izzy. He wanted his sister to hug him and his parabatai to make some inappropriate joke about his current situation so it wouldn’t seem so desperately dim.   
He focused on the bond and sensed the unease that had been coming from his brother for the past several days, stemming from the unhappiness of Alec not being beside him. He clenched his eyes shut when he felt tears threatening to fall and tried to send love back to Jace. A sense of relief ghosted through the bond, partially filling the empty hollow that had been carved out the moment he had been separated from his siblings. But at the same time, being half filled with abstract emotions emphasised the half empty hole that was the lack of physical presence. Alec had of course spent nights away on missions for Alicante without Izzy, not that that made this any easier, but parabatai were always kept together. They fought better, focused better, functioned better when they were together; and this was the longest Alec had been without Jace for almost 7 years. He shuddered and then choked on a breath as his chest tightened. He forced the panic down unsuccessfully, telling himself to breathe in for five and out for five but cutting short when he realised he couldn’t breathe in at all. Pained, rasped sounds escaped the Nephilim’s lips and he clamped his mouth shut, not  wanting to alert the Prince after all the stupid mistakes he’d already made in the short time he’d been there. Of course, this meant that Alec was trying to breathe in through his nose, and he couldn’t coordinate his body enough for that to work, and then tears were flooding his vision and black spots were starting to appear in the darkness of the bathroom, twirling like a kaleidoscope as his head turned light and dizzy and he felt panic from his brother intertwine with the panic he already felt.   
The door suddenly flew open and Alec cringed away from the bright orb of light Magnus was holding in his hands, all the remaining air in his body quickly leaving, so Alec was left empty and shaking and crying and sobbing and choking on no oxygen as his lungs cut out and he knew he was going to die. Magnus fell to his knees beside the Shadowhunter, worry etched all over the warlock’s features, and slapped Alec hard across the face, the back of his skull colliding painfully with the tiled wall behind him. He gasped at the impact - and the surprise that the gentle man he had thought he was beginning to know so well could do this- but stayed where he was, knowing that he deserved punishment for waking the Royal up. That didn’t stop his shoulders heaving with sobs as he felt the helplessness his parabatai felt worming its way through the bond. He clenched his eyes shut as he waited for another slap to come his way, bracing himself for the pain.   
But none came.   
He flinched when he felt a warm, gentle hand ghosting over his jaw, and carefully opened one eye to see Magnus gingerly wiping Alec’s tears away. The Prince was frowning, and Alec rushed to apologise.   
“I’m sorry,” Alec choked. “I-I woke you up and-“   
Magnus pressed a finger against Alec’s lips and said “I understand. And it is I who should be apologising to you, I am not in a habit of slapping people but I have read that it is a quick way of helping someone regain their ability to breathe- it worked, but that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do .I’m sorry.”

The Nephilim felt a smile tug at one side of his mouth at the honest sincerity in the Prince’s tone, but simply nodded. Green healing magic pooled in Magnus’ palms, and the Lightwood felt heat warming his cheek and skull until the dull, achy pain was gone.

“I can probably hazard a good guess, but if you’d like to talk about what’s upsetting you, I’m always here to listen,” the warlock said, his voice calm and soothing. “Total transparency, remember? No judgement either.”   
“I just . . . my siblings . . . “ Alec trailed off, unable to string his words together. “Izzy a-and Jace.”   
“You miss them,” Magnus said gently, not phrasing it as a question.   
The Nephilim nodded. “I’ve never been away from my parabatai. We’re always together. And . . . and I can feel him. I can feel that he’s worried about me and I can’t let him know that I’m ok- that you’re not going to . . . “   
“I may be able to do something to help, Alexander, but you have to give me your word that you won’t tell a soul,” The Prince sounded serious, but not insistent.   
“Of course, your Highness.”   
“How many times do I have to tell you?” the warlock asked, smiling. “It’s just Magnus.”   
“Of course,  _ just Magnus _ .”   
Magnus laughed brightly, as Alec grinned.   
“Was that a sense of humour I see emerging from you, Alexander? Just a week in my company and I’ve already had an amazing effect! I think that next on the agenda is makeup- oh, you’d look  _ gorgeous _ with a little black eyeliner and some red lipstick!”   
Alec, surprisingly bravely, swatted at Magnus’ arm, groaning exaggeratedly. “By the Angel  _ no _ , I have enough nightmares from the time Izzy made me look I’d smeared Seelie shit all over my cheeks with the insistence that I was ‘poppin’ from the highlight.”   
An inelegant snort escaped the Royal, and Alec joined him only a split second later, the sound of their laughter filling the lavish bathroom with joyful notes.   
After a few moments, Magnus sobered and considered an idea he had had since he witnessed the emotional goodbye from the three Lightwood siblings.   
“Alexander,” Magnus began, hesitantly. “I may be able to help you with something, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”   
Alec turned to look at him, his face serious in the warm glow from the orb of light Magnus still held in one palm.   
“I might be able to get a way for you to communicate with your siblings.  _ Might _ ,” the Prince stressed. “This is only a small possibility.”   
“Thank you,” Alec breathed, eyes wide with vulnerability. “Any possibility you have is undoubtedly better than the no possibility I have. What were you thinking we could do?”   
_ We _ . Magnus felt happiness blooming in his chest at the thought of Alec considering their peculiar situation as a united one.   
“Initially, I thought fire messages would be fine. I can send them easily enough, but magic linking the outside with the inside is always flagged by my father’s aid, and then I also realised that your siblings would have no way of answering. Do you have your stele with you?”   
The Nephilim looked confused, but quickly pulled the angelic tool from the holster attached to his trousers. His bow and quiver had been taken from him when he had been forced before the King on the day he was sentenced. Magnus deposited the stele into the pocket of his silk pajamas and didn’t mention the rest of his plan.   
“Why do you need my stele?” Alec asked, itching to feel the reassuring weight of it in his holster.   
“I can’t give you the details, but I should be able to use it to open a passage of communication for you, but there’s someone I need to talk to first.”   
Clary Fairchild’s angelic ability was a closely-guarded secret of Edom, with only Ragnor, Prince Magnus, King Asmodeus, Commander Lucian Gray and Infirmary leader Catarina Loss having immediate knowledge of it. Jocelyn, Clary’s mother, had taken her daughter to Magnus for help with figuring out the girl’s powers. Her mother had met an untimely demise when a rogue demon attack had cost Jocelyn her life, and Clary had been allowed citizenship of the castle on the condition that she keep her abilities secret and allow Asmodeus to create new runes with her whenever he pleased; the redhead was a glorified captive. The Prince suspected that Clary’s aid, Dorothea, suspected her ability, but the woman had never gotten involved.   
Magnus’ plan was to meet with Clary and get her to create a rune that would allow two way communication, preferably enabling Alec to see his siblings without having to leave the castle or allowing Jace and Izzy into the castle. The Prince was cautious of only bending the rules, and not breaking them for fear of Asmodeus’ punishment for Alec.   
The hope in the younger man’s eyes spurred Magnus into motion, and although it was 2:34am, he decided that he would see his favourite biscuit immediately. He couldn’t allow Alec to spend the rest of the night sleepless if there was something he could try and do about easing his mind.   
“I’ll see them now and I’ll fill you in as soon as I know something for definite. Please don’t get your hopes up, Alexander, I can’t guarantee that this will work.”   
Alec nodded tersely, “I’d rather get my hopes up than have none at all. Thank you, Magnus.”   
“Of course,” was the Prince’s simple response, before Alec clasped the Prince’s hands between his own and squeezed them gently, gratefully. Magnus’ face lit up in a smile, even his cat-eyes brightening. He was falling far too quickly for this Nephilim, with his unwavering self-sacrifice and dark eyes. But he couldn’t help it- Alec had unlocked something in him.   
“Try and get some sleep, and I promise that I’ll wake you up when I get back, so I can tell you what’s going to happen, how about that?” Magnus asked, knowing that Alec had most likely not had an ounce of sleep since they had gotten into bed a few hours prior.   
“Ok,” Alec said quietly. He didn’t have it in him to argue, not when he really did feel like the Forsaken: dead and zombie-like. He stood and turned towards the bathroom door. He held it open for Magnus and then stumbled straight to the bed, the lack of sleep seeming to catch up to him all at once. He was falling asleep as his head hit the pillow, but not before he heard the Prince whisper, “good night, my Alexander,” and the soft click of the door as he went in search of an end to the separation of the three Lightwood siblings.   
Alec rolled over onto his side and fell asleep with a gentle sigh. He dreamed of Prince Magnus’ sparkling magic and glittering eyeshadow, regardless of his head warning his heart not to.


	3. The Course That You Have Set For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title taken from “don’t tell me” by Ruel ✨  
> hope you enjoy the new chapter!

The Prince made his way down the winding corridors of the castle in relative ease: the only people he encountered were the night cleaning staff, who avoided catching his glowing eyes, and Ragnor, on his way to his bedchamber after he had -once again- gotten caught up in sending the relevant messages. Ragnor nodded respectfully, his green skin looking sickly in the dim light of the hallway but continued on his way. He could sense when the Prince was not to be distracted and he had no intention of ignoring his gut sense. Whatever Magnus was doing was for the Lightwood boy, of this Ragnor was certain. He sent a silent prayer down to Lilith that the Prince wouldn’t endanger himself for the sake of his new servant.   
When Magnus rounded the corner before Clary’s chambers, he took a deep breath and mentally ran through what it was that he would need to say. He was loathe to put his biscuit in harm’s way by disclosing the reason behind needing the two-way mirror, but he also knew that she would want all of the information before she acquiesced. He rapped sharply on the door twice, waiting patiently as he heard the muted rustle of bedsheets and subsequent hazy footsteps dragging along her carpet.   
The door opened to reveal a bleary-looking Clary Fairchild: hair resembling a bird’s nest, eyes puffy with sleep and nightdress rumpled with creases. He suppressed a fond smile she stumbled back to let him inside her room.   
“What’s happened?” She asked, voice croaky with sleep.   
“I’m afraid I couldn’t wait until morning, biscuit, but I’m going to need you to make me a rune,” his voice was calm, but he also allowed a hint of his royalty and authority bleed into his words. He knew there would be no arguments from the young woman even before she nodded in compliance.   
“Of course, what do you need it to do?”   
“I need a way for two people in different locations to be able to communicate and see one another. It cannot be a portal, but the visual side is still important.”   
She hummed in acknowledgement, then clenched her eyes shut. She pulled her hands into fists and her body went taut with tension. A moment passed in relative silence, until she sighed and relaxed.   
Clary turned back to face Magnus, “I’m going to need a stele and a mirror. It doesn’t matter what size the mirror is but the image of the other person will fill the surface, so a bigger mirror will allow for a bigger image of the other person.”   
The warlock procured the stele from his pocket, handing it to her with a flourish, then twirled his right hand until a full-length mirror appeared leaning against the wall opposite them. The mirror was plain except for a thin gold border accentuating the edges of the surface and was large enough to easily fit the reflection of two people standing side by side in it. It would be perfect for both Alec’s sister and parabatai to be talking to him at the same time.   
More awake now, the redhead stepped over to the mirror quickly, and closed her eyes again briefly before reopening them and drawing an elaborate rune in the centre of the reflective surface. The rune glimmered, a blend of concentric circles containing straight lines through the centre, and dots bordering one quarter of the circle.   
When the rune disappeared she stepped back and gestured Magnus forwards. He joined her and clicked his fingers so that the mirror hovered next to him before pressing a kiss to her hand in thanks.   
“I can rely on your utmost discretion, my Lady?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.   
“Always, your Highness,” she replied, smiling.   
He left and heard the door being closed gently behind him. Magnus set his sights forward and began striding back down the corridor towards his bedchamber. His glowing pupils met the questioning stare of every staff member he passed, his eyes just daring them to challenge him as to why a mirror was following him down the hallway. The staff very quickly picked up the memo that they were not to bring the Prince’s little excursion to the attention of their ruthless king, but Magnus still let out a sigh of relief when he was standing in his chamber without having been questioned by anyone. He pointed one long, ringed finger in the direction of the wall space next to the bed, and watched the mirror float along the path of his finger until it rested against the wall.   
As if realising that he was not alone, Magnus finally acknowledged the sleeping figure of Alec fidgeting restlessly underneath the duvet cover. His mouth was open and quiet but pained noises were escaping his lips as he tossed and turned. The Prince hurried over, the sheets rustling underneath him as he sat in the bay of Alec’s curved body and pressed a hand against the Nephilim’s forehead. He was sweating, and his skin felt like a furnace, burning hot like blue flames. Magnus’ black and gold jewelled rings glinted in the light from the fireplace as he threw his hand out in the direction of the fire and extinguished it immediately. He reignited the glowing orb he had conjured in the bathroom earlier, the surface of the orb a soft ivory and undulating like waves, lit from within so the light intensified as the waves receded and grew thinner. He placed the orb on the side table before returning his attention back to the younger man; the Prince’s hands bracketed Alec’s face, murmuring a hasty incantation under his breath as his fingertips glowed.   
The light seeped into Alec and the warlock shivered under the intimacy of the act as he felt a vital part of himself being shared with the Lightwood, like his soul was being bared and held defenceless in front of the younger man. Magnus felt Alec’s temperature drop like a physical entity as the Nephilim’s body seized shaking and his eyelashes fluttered open. The Prince felt himself captivated by his eyes, as those perfectly hazel pupils adjusted to the light from the orb and widened in surprise as he registered whose bed he was awakening in. He levered himself into a sitting position, dragging a hand down his face blearily as he gained his bearings.   
Upon making eye contact with Magnus, he hastily got out of the bed, leaving Magnus sitting on the covers as he stood tall and clasped his eyes behind his back. The very definition of a Nephilim soldier.   
“Did it work? Did your plan work?” He asked earnestly, despite his voice cracking from the two hours sleep he had managed to get.   
Magnus nodded silently and gestured towards the mirror. Alec was moving before he’d even had a chance to blink. The Nephilim ran a hand over the surface, a small frown pulling his lips downwards at the lack of reaction. He turned back to the Prince and asked “how does it work?”.   
“I’ll need to infuse it with some of my magic before it can be used, but when it’s finished you should be able to see and hear your siblings when you choose to communicate with them,” a wave of tiredness overcame the warlock, as all the magic he’d used up hit him simultaneously, and he laid back on the bed fully clothed, “I need to sleep in order to replenish my magic but I promise that I’ll get started as soon as I can in the morning. How does that sound?”   
Alec nodded enthusiastically, before grimacing and placing a palm just above his left hip. Magnus sat up and swung his legs back over the side of the bed so they were facing each other.   
“Is something wrong, Alexander?” Magnus asked, and Alec could have winced at how caring and earnest the Prince sounded. It may work in his favour to have the warlock think favourably of him, but would that then attract the attention of Asmodeus? Was it safer for Alec to just stick to himself and merely follow his duties for the Prince, flying under the radar as it were? He would rather make his life at the castle easy, and decided that civility was the best way of achieving that. If he had to ignore Magnus’ subtle approaches, so be it, but he had promised his siblings that he would stay safe. Attracting the dangerous path of the King to him was a very, very bad idea. Magnus had warned him of what Asmodeus wanted from him, and Alec had no intentions of hastening that want.   
“I’ll be fine, your Highness,” Alec replied softly, but the formal title still caught Magnus off guard like a bucket of icy water, racing around his body and freezing any warmth the Nephilim had begun to ignite in him. The Prince felt his face fall and he caught the guardedness from earlier return to the younger man’s face. Magnus didn’t understand what had changed in the last few moments, but he held his tiredness at bay in order to find out.   
“Have I done something to offend you, Alec?” For many citizens, hearing such a question from the Prince would have seemed like a trap, but Alec sensed that Magnus was genuinely worried that he’d upset his servant.   
“No, of course not, your Highness. You’re helping me get in contact with my siblings. You aren’t going to . . . you know.”   
“Alec I already told you, I wouldn’t ever force myself on anyone. So why the formal title? Didn’t we agree that you could just call me Magnus?” The bewilderment was audible, and Alec cursed Raziel for finding him a man that would normally be his perfect type and putting them in an impossible situation. Magnus was kind and compassionate, gentle yet fiery, generous and forgiving, but Alec couldn’t allow himself to fall for the Prince. The formal titles were a reminder of that.   
“I can’t. I  _ can’t _ . Please, Mag- your Highness,” Alec begged. He hoped desperately that Magnus wouldn’t make him explain, but the Angels chose otherwise.   
“Why, Alexander? I don’t understand,” Magnus asked, voice tinged with both desperation and confusion.   
“Because- because you’re  _ you _ and I-I’m your servant and- and your father would . . .” Alec broke off his stammering and took a deep breath before continuing in an even tone, “please, please just don’t make me-“   
“Make you what, Alexander?” Magnus snapped, eyes glimmering with tears despite the harsh pitch of his voice. “I’ve told you that I would never hurt you and I’m trying to help you get in touch with your sister and your parabatai. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think that I’d ever make you do anything you don’t want to, because I know you’re only here to protect your sister, but-“   
“I can’t fall for you, Magnus!” Alec shouted, eyes widening as if he were shocked by his own outburst. “You’re the only person apart from my siblings that knows about me being gay,” he choked on the word ‘gay’ like it burned him to say it aloud, “and you’re perfect- don’t you  _ get _ that? If I had the chance to draw the perfect guy for me it would be you but I can’t do that because that would draw attention to me and I can’t afford for your father to come and- and use me as  _ his _ body slave just to prove some sick and twisted point to you! So please, just don’t make this more difficult because I finally thought I might have found someone that would be good for me if I wasn’t your fucking  _ servant _ but this whole situation is completely fucked up and I-I can’t break my promise to my sister and parabatai.”   
Magnus was stunned into silence. That was more words from Alec than he thought he’d heard him speak since he’d been forced into servitude. But the more pressing matter was: Alec thought he was perfect for him? The thought shouldn’t have been enough to distract him, but he felt the warmth of the sentiment seeping through him nonetheless.   
Magnus debated the best way to response for a few moments before finally settling on the truth.   
“To the very best of magical abilities I won’t let my father hurt you, Alexander, especially not in that way. I will protect you with all I have. And I agree, the situation is abysmal, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t try if you want to. I would like to try and give us a chance, because it’s only beena week but I’ve already caught glimpses of your bravery and strength. And to put yourself through all of this so that your sister didn’t have to? That takes courage, Alec, and you should commend yourself for your devotion to your siblings. If we try this,” he gestures between the two of them with one hand, “and you want to call it quits then just tell me like I’ll tell you. And we have total transparency, right?” Alec nods in hesitant agreement, “Which means that I won’t use my status to pressure you into anything, and you don’t need to feel pressured because you think your role requires you to do something you don’t want to. Your duties start and finish with the list we went through when you arrived, and that’s everything, ok? Everything else needs to be what you want, if not you need to tell me so that we’re on the same page. How does that sound?”   
“Good,” Alec murmured softly. His eyes had taken on a wistful look as he gazed at Magnus absently. He seemed to realise that he’d been caught and shook his head, messy chocolate brown curls becoming even more tousled as he cleared his previous thoughts.   
“Now,” Magnus began, and even just that one word sounded uncharacteristically nervous, “in the interest of honesty, do you want to tell me what’s really wrong with you?”   
The Nephilim sighed but his eyes filled with tears as he brushed his knuckles over them to wipe the tears away before they fell. He slowly lifted the hem of the t-shirt Magnus had conjured for him and lifted it to just below his ribs. The Prince gasped quietly when he saw what lay beneath.   
Alec’s parabatai rune was inflamed, an angry, blazing red edged with raised skin. It looked like someone had recently carved it into his hip with a serrated knife, and a single rivulet of blood was leaking from the bottom of it, like a sorrowful tear for the separated pair of brothers.   
Magnus instantly pooled healing magic between his palms, despite the nausea it stirred in his gut. He needed sleep to replenish the energy he’d used for conjuring the clothes and orbs and enchanted mirrors, but he simply took a deep, steadying breath before reaching forward to start healing the younger man.     
In a movement that Magnus had never expected from the cautious and vigilant Nephilim, Alec grabbed the warlock’s hands between his own and pressed a light kiss against each knuckle as Magnus called his magic back to him.   
“You can’t heal this, Magnus. The parabatai bond is a tricky thing, and all magic can do is break it. I’m fine, honestly. It hardly hurts at all.”   
The Prince made a disbelieving noise in the back of throat, “Alec, what have we said about transparency? You can’t honestly tell me that that doesn’t hurt. What caused it? Is Jace alright?”   
Alec nodded, “Jace is fine. Well, physically he’s fine, anyway.”   
“What aren’t you telling me, Alexander? What’s caused it to look like that?”   
The Nephilim knew he wouldn’t be able to outright lie to Magnus, and finally just relented to telling the truth.   
“It looks like this because Jace and I are apart. Parabatai aren’t meant to be separated, it’s part of our oaths to each other and to the Angels – ‘for where thou lodgest, I will lodge’. I haven’t been apart from him this long since our ritual years ago. I thought it would be fine, but parabatai pairs where the bond is particularly strong have more severe effects. The fact that Jace doesn’t categorically know that I’m ok doesn’t help, it just means that his stress leaks into the sense of wrongness that comes with being apart. I can’t really explain it but it’s like he’s just an echo rather than his usual presence which feels really strong and just there, does that make any sense?”   
“So if Jace knew you were alright the effect wouldn’t be as severe?” Magnus enquired.   
At Alec’s nod, he didn’t hesitate to conjure a piece of parchment and quill out of the air, offering both to the Nephilim who took them with one eyebrow raised in confusion.   
“Tell him you’re ok, Alexander. Add something that only the two of you would know so he can be certain that it’s you who’s writing. I’ll give it to Ragnor to send so he can disguise it between other letters he’s sending for me. I’d send it magically but any magic between the castle and the outside is flagged to my father,” the Prince explained apologetically. At this, Alec perched on the bed and rested the parchment on one of the bedside tables as he scribbled away, the quill scratching at the paper.   
After a few moments with nothing but the sound of quill on parchment piercing the silence, Alec stood and neatly folded the paper in two, subtly obscuring the words from Magnus. He handed the paper to the Prince with a nod of thanks, his deep hazel eyes conveying all the gratitude the Nephilim struggled to voice.   
“I’ll give it to Ragnor during breakfast,” Magnus said, and with a quick glance out of the window to note the height of the rising sun over the courtyard wall he continued, “which should be in an hour or so. Today is the first morning that your breakfast collecting duty starts, and the little Cabbage has agreed to accompany you down to the kitchen to collect our food, so that you’ll know where you’re going in the future.”   
“A question, if I may?”   
“Of course Alexander, you never need permission to say something in my chamber.”   
“Um . . . who’s the ‘little Cabbage’?” Alec’s voice was tinged with bewilderment at the nickname, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards as his eyes crinkled at the edges.   
“Oh, I forgot how strange that seems without context!” Magnus laughed, delighted to hear Alec’s own shy chuckle chiming along, “I call my dearest Ragnor ‘Cabbage’, in honour of his pleasant pea-green skin. Mind you, never call him that to his face- he only just tolerates the nickname coming from me, and I believe that’s mostly down to society perceiving me as his superior.”   
“Do you not see yourself as superior?” the Nephilim asked, curiously. “You are our prince, after all.”   
Magnus waved a hand in the air, nonplussed. “Titles are for those who deserve them, my supposed title is a result of me just being born- and I didn’t even choose to be born. My good friend Luke is deemed the Commander, as he has showed the skill and prowess necessary to lead an army. He could not be replaced by just anyone. I, on the other hand, could. No skillset is needed for my role. And that is why I see everyone as equal, because you and I are the same, despite our respective roles telling us otherwise.”   
“Oh,” Alec mumbled. “That makes sense. You aren’t anywhere near as strict about titles as your father, n-no offence to the King, of course.”   
Magnus shrugged, a startlingly mundane movement for such a regal man, even in his bedclothes.   
As a sudden knock on the door sounded from the direction of the corridor, both men turned to see Ragnor walking in. His green skin was highlighted in the light from the window, the usual brightness intensified to a luminous shade of pea. The Prince’s right hand was smirking as he noticed the close proximity between the two men.   
“I’m sure the two of you had a busy night last night,” he jested, with a light elbow to the royal warlock’s stomach. Magnus batted it away before it connected, however, and stepped back in order to permit space between himself and the Nephilim. From the corner of his eye, the Prince saw how Alec’s face had shuttered closed at the Cabbage’s words, his eyes losing their softness, his body losing its carelessness in exchange for a soldier’s rigidity. The insinuation from Ragnor had clearly needled at that ever-present fear of either the Prince or the King forcing themselves on him, despite Magnus saying that he never would, and that he’d prevent his father from taking what he wanted from the servant.   
“Stop it,” Magnus ordered, stepping closer to Ragnor and further away from Alec, allowing some of his authority to bleed into his words. He saw the smirk drop from Ragnor’s face instantly at the change in pace from their usual kinship. “ _ I _ know that you were joking but Alexander doesn’t. I believe that he’s finally learning that I would never do that to him- to anyone, for that matter- but joking about it isn’t helping either of us. I don’t want him to be scared anymore, not when he thought that that was exactly what I had planned for his duties. Nobody deserves to feel like that, especially not Alec.”   
“You’re really quite fond of him already, aren’t you?” Ragnor asked quietly, ensuring that Alec couldn’t hear them from his position behind Magnus.   
“Yes,” Magnus sighed. He suddenly sounded tired, and his strained voice reflected the centuries of toxic relationships and traumatic lovers he had experienced. “Which is dangerous for both us.”

Ragnor patted the Prince’s arm reassuringly. “You have always had a flair for the dramatic my friend, but you know that you can make this work if you really both want it to. You can handle your father- you’ve handled him before.”

“That was different, my dearest Cabbage,” Magnus murmured in response. “Alexander is at the mercy of whatever my father commands of him, and I can’t outright stop that from happening. I will protect Alec as best I can, of course I will, but the best thing to do would be to keep them apart and lead my father to beileve that I am making full use of my body slave. Asmodeus has said himself that if I do not use Alec in the way that he intended, he will not hesitate to take him whenever and wherever he pleases. That cannot happen, Ragnor. It  _ can’t _ .”

“We’ll get through this, Magnus. We will.”

With that assurance given to his Prince, Ragnor stepped forwards to stand in front of Alec. The green man had to tip his head back a little way in order to meet the Nephilim’s eyes, as the height difference meant he only came up to the younger man’s shoulders. “I’m sorry if my earlier comment worried you, I was merely joking, but in hindsight it was not a suitable joke to make to a man forced into bodily servitude. My apologies.”

Alec inclined his head respectfully, “apology accepted.”

“Now, are my two favourite men going to get me breakfast or will I have to starve to death instead?” Magnus asked, grinning.

“Why don’t you magic yourself breakfast like you’ve been doing this week?” Alec asked, curiously. Ragnor’s head snapped round to look at Magnus with round eyes, clearly surprised by the quick turnaround from the younger man. Just the previous week Alec had been silent and vigilant, and now he was asking questions of the Prince he had so recently seemed to fear? How much had happened in seven days to have caused this much progress? The Prince’s aid shook his head to clear the thought as he realised it didn’t matter; what was important was that Alec finally seemed to understand that Magnus did not dole out punishments, and he actively encouraged honesty between himself and his staff.

“I used to conjure a mean Belgian waffle, but since I started my business I need to conserve energy for helping those who need it most. I’m a little more frivolous with my magic later in the day, after my work is finished and I can use whatever’’s left, which is why I used so much the first evening. I’ve been magicking breakfast this week so that you didn’t have to go and face the rest of the castle so soon. Besides, Simon loves to cook, and certainly didn’t turn down the option to make breakfast for one more person when my father’s aid told him that you would be staying here from now on.”

“Oh, I see,” Alec said. “We’ll collect breakfast now then, if that’s alright?”

Magnus nodded, and Ragnor held the door open for Alec as the two men left the room. As the door shut behind them, Magnus exhaled and flopped back on top of the duvet covers, stretching his arms above his head and splaying his legs so he looked like a starfish. The faint echoes of Alec’s light laughter filled the air, as the Prince heard him chatting away with Ragnor on their way down the corridor to the kitchens.

 

*** ***

The kitchen was much grander than Alec had expected, even for that of a royal castle. Everything was a silver so well-cleaned it was shining under the bright lights in the ceilings. A large island was central in the room, chopping boards, knife blocks and various other appliances and utensils littering the surface in a pattern that could only be described as messily organised. A dark haired man and a red haired woman were the only people besides them in the kitchen, standing with their backs to Alec and Ragnor, chopping away at something as they gossiped about someone called Iris. The girl’s laughter sounded, as she turned to empty the chopping board contents into a nearby bin. As she caught sight of them she straightened and waved amicably at Ragnor, shooting an uncertain smile in Alec’s direction, who returned it as sincerely as he could. The man then also turned around, and the Nephilim saw that he was in his chef whites with thick black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, unlike the girl who was in an emerald green dress.

“Morning Simon,” Ragnor said, before nodding his head in the direction of the redhead, “Clary.”

“Breakfast’s ready for you guys, I just put it on the side there,” the man called Simon said, gesturing to the island where a silver platter was placed. Alec could have almost winced at how cheery the man sounded considering how early in the day it was, but obligingly picked the platter up and thanked Simon and Clary.

“Hey, no worries man. I hope you enjoy! I wasn’t sure what you’d like since we’ve never met . . . obviously, so I just kinda picked stuff that most people like but you know, if you don’t like it just lemme know and I’ll make sure I don’t make it for you in future. So, er, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you in the future, so I look forward to getting to know you better. Also, um, if you wouldn’t mind, could you maybe not mention that Clary was down here with me? It just that she’s not meant to leave her quarters but I guess it gets pretty lonely because she always picks my pointless rambling over the silence of her room. I don’t know if you’ve figured this out yet but I kinda get sidetracked a lot and then I end up rambling- oh god, am I rambling now? I am, aren’t I? I’m- I’m just gonna stop talking now. Enjoy breakfast!” Simon stuttered as his cheeks flushed scarlet and he whirled back around to continue chopping. Alec glanced at Ragnor with raised eyebrows, despite the green man shrugging with a fond  _ what can you do? _ expression etched over his face.

Alec groaned internally, but somehow found the motivation to attempt kindness with this foolish yet seemingly innocent chef. “Thank you, Simon, it looks delicious. And I promise that I won’t tell anyone that Clary was here.”

The redhead grinned at him and then whacked Simon over the back of his head. 

“See!” she exclaimed, “I told you that Magnus would have a good choice in sex slave! He’s cute  _ and _ nice!” 

The Nephilim couldn’t help the automatic step backwards that he took at the title.  _ Sex slave _ . Like he wasn’t even a person anymore, he was just the new plaything, the object that they all assumed Magnus would be putting to use whenever he fancied. But none of them seemed to consider this arrangement from Alec’s point of view: if he’d had to work for Asmodeus instead of Magnus, he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to him already. He didn’t want to think about how those feelings would be transmitted through the bond, or how intense it would feel for Jace to experience the second-hand emotions.

Simon’s eyes widened as he took in Alec’s reaction to Clary’s words, but the redhead was seemingly oblivious to the effect she’d had, and continued with her voluntary kitchen work. 

Alec turned and left the kitchen silently, not bothering to give Clary or Simon a backwards glance.

*** ***

After knocking on the Princes door as tradition dictates, Alec held his hand against the wood as he balanced the breakfast platter in his other palm. When the door swung open he stepped inside with Ragnor behind him, but he couldn’t conceal the relieved sigh he made upon returning to the chamber he thought of as a safespace. Magnus was sitting in what the Nephilim presumed was his favourite armchair, one leg crossed over the other with a well-thumbed book in his left hand. The Prince has dressed and applied his makeup in the time that his staff had been gone, and was now wearing an eye-catching silk top that had long sleeves and a plunging neckline so deep that Alec felt heat flaming across his cheeks. Numerous necklaces covered some of the skin bared from the neckline of the top, one of which was glinting in the sun from the adjacent window. The necklaces were complimented by obscenely tight leather trousers, which made Alec’s flushed cheeks darken tenfold when he took in the tightness around the Royal’s crotch. He forced his gaze upwards, and found himself looking at a smirking Magnus. He’d clearly noticed the area Alec’s eyes had been focused on, and the Nephilim felt the breakfast platter waver as his hands shook slightly with embarrassment. He placed the tray on the the coffee table in front of the two armchairs, and pulled a stool over so he could sit and allow Ragnor to use the other armchair. The green man waved him off and took the stool for himself, “I’ll take the stool, my friend. What Clary said was not the kindest comment she could have made. Letting you have the chair is the least I can do to make up for it.”

Magnus’ eyes searched Alec’s for some clue as to what Clary had said, but after realising that Alec had put up his usual stoic guard - that the Prince had thought he’d finally convinced Alec it was safe to take down- he turned to Ragnor for answers instead.

“What did she say to him?” His voice was sharp, and accompanied by narrowed eyes that were hardening in anger.

Ragnor glanced at Alec, paying close attention to how his tough resolve slipped slightly when he noticed the protective tone of the Prince’s voice.

“She rather crudely called him your new sex slave,” the aid said, voice carefully even as he tried to gauge Magnus’ reaction. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the angry blood red bursts of magic to explode from both of the Prince’s hands. The air around the three men suddenly felt charged,  _ alive _ even, and Alec had to forcibly restrain himself from cringing away. It felt unequivocally dangerous, the weight of the oxygen suddenly palpable and suffocating. What really scared the Nephilim, though, was the thunderous look that had overtaken Magnus’ face. Alec had the sudden, irrational thought that he needed to calm the Prince- that he didn’t want Magnus to be angry, especially not over something as worthless as his body slave. The Nephilim stood, and placed a calming hand over the warlock’s clenched fist. He felt the sudden invasion of magic as it zipped through his bloodstream, and Alec detected that it would willingly kill him if it disagreed with his actions or intentions, until it seemingly granted Alec permission to touch Magnus and receded like a wave back into the Prince. 

“Please, my Prince, it’s fine.  _ I’m _ fine. Clary didn’t mean it rudely, I’m sure . . . sure she just didn’t realise the way it would come across.  _ Please _ don’t be angry, Magnus.”

The final sentence seemed to burst whatever bubble Magnus had created in his mind that excluded reasoning and logic, and he snapped his eyes from Alec’s hand on his arm to the Nephilim’s eyes in one graceful movement. His glowing cat-eyes softened around the edges, but retained their steely resolve. 

“She upset you,” Magnus argued, as if it were as simple as that. 

“I wasn’t upset,” Alec countered truthfully, “it was just . . . a shock to hear my role stated so matter of factly. Like it wasn’t a big deal to literally be nothing better than a person used for sex.”

“I’ve already told you I wouldn’t-“

“I know,” Alec interrupted, surprised by how confident he was that there would be no repercussions for interrupting the Prince of Edomia. “Which is why I wasn’t  _ upset _ , and was just caught off guard by it. Please don’t be angry.”

The Prince sighed, and the protectiveness slipped away from his luminous pupils.

“I’m sorry, Alexander, for getting angry. But Clary had no right to call you that, especially as she knows that no person is an object. I will speak to her, and explain that such rudeness towards you will not be tolerated.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” Alec said, gratefully. He saw the warlock shiver slightly at the term of address, and the Nephilim felt something warm curl deliciously at the bottom of his stomach at the reaction.

Magnus nodded and then turned to Ragnor, holding Alec’s letter out to him. “I need this hand-delivered by you this morning. We will exit the castle so magic between here and the city isn’t flagged, and I’ll create a portal to the recipients abode.”

“Of course, Magnus. Would you like to go now? I can finish my breakfast afterwards.”

“Yes, we’ll go now. I’ll be back shortly, Alexander, enjoy your breakfast,” the warlock said, before he and Ragnor left his chamber. Alec shook his head fondly before starting his breakfast. Simon had made him a fruit salad and pain au chocolate, two of his favourite breakfast choices. 

The Nephilim began to wonder if perhaps life at the castle would be bearable after all.

But having goodness is the only way you can acknowledge when things turn bad.


	4. Scared Of My Own Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting chapter four in celebration of the FIVE NOMINATIONS we have for People’s Choice Awards (not bad for a cancelled show, huh). Head over to Twitter or the PCA website now to vote for Kat, Harry and Shadowhunters in their categories!  
> hope you enjoy the chapter!  
> chapter title taken from Say by Ruel <3

After finishing his breakfast and tidying the empty plates back onto the platter, he wondered what to do to kill the time he had waiting for Magnus to get back. He looked around the bedchamber.

The vanity desk and door to the ensuite bathroom was to the left of the bed, the doorway out of the room and some wardrobes to the right of the bed, and shelves and shelves of beautiful, old, well-thumbed books were opposite the bed. Almost as if drawn by some other-worldly force, Alec found himself running his hand along the spines with his mouth open in childlike awe. 

Even as the eldest son of the well known Lightwood family, they had only been allowed a few books, and even the books they owned were closely monitored. The King monopolised knowledge, hence any books on philosophy, science and mathematics were banned. Alec’s favourite books were all focused on the various Edomian wars of the past, told from the perspective of a war hero and detailing the numerous battles and pressured situations they had encountered. As a training Nephilim at Alicante, it had been ingrained in Alec that he wasn’t good enough and that he should always be looking for ways to better himself. The inherent insecurity that he was a soldier lacking some vital quality had influenced even his reading material, and it wasn’t until now that he considered reading a book that  _ wasn’t _ about fighting.

Magnus had books on magic and mischief, love and lust, murder and mystery. The genres were mindboggling, and the Nephilim found himself gingerly pulling some of the abundance of books down and scanning the title and cover to see what caught his eye. 

After considering a few, he finally settled on a book titled  _ “Aku Cinta Kamu” _ , that was bound in navy blue with sparkling gold details around the edges and cover text. It claimed to be about two men who embarked on an exhilarating journey to overcome tradition and stigmas to pursue their forbidden love. Alec couldn’t help but wonder what it said about his current situation that  _ that _ was what he suddenly felt an interest in.

He’d only just read the first few intriguing pages of the opening chapter when he heard footsteps approaching Magnus’ bedchamber. The Nephilim jumped to his feet from the armchair he’d been sitting in, and ran to the bookshelves. He was just lifting his arm to carefully but quickly shove the book back when the door opened and he leapt away, the book smacking onto the floor as it fell from its precarious position on the shelf. Alec froze.

Magnus walked in and saw Alec standing there, hugging his arms around his torso anxiously as he looked at the book that had fallen to the floor. The warlock struggled to hide his fond smile at the pain the Nephilim seemed to be radiating for the book corner that been damaged from the fall. But the Prince still didn’t understand what had happened.

“What happened, Alexander? Are you alright?” He asked. Alec nodded, still slightly shaken. “I’m fine,” he lied. Magnus tilted his head at the younger man’s response, clearly weighing its truth.

“Total transparency,” the warlock said, encouraging honesty.

“I-I was just. . .” Alec trailed off, and glanced wistfully at the book again, “I just thought that you had a lot of books and you maybe- maybe wouldn’t be mad at me if I looked at them. I’m sorry, it was wrong of me and I-I won’t do it again.” The Nephilim struggled to keep eye contact with Magnus, but his eyes suddenly widened when he felt a soothing wave pass over the parabatai bond. He suddenly felt weak with relief, and sunk to the bed heavily as he sighed. Jace knew he was ok, and didn’t feel like the tangle of  _ angry-anxious-scared-concerned _ that Alec had grown used to over the last week. The absence of it was overwhelmingly wonderful, and he closed his eyes as he felt thankful tears welling up. The cavernous hole of the parabatai’s separation was eased greatly by the reassuring knowledge of their mutual safety.

When Alec felt a little more under control of his emotions, he opened his eyes to see Magnus smiling at him from where he had been standing by the door; even the Prince’s cat-eyes seemed more radiant as he observed the painful weight being lifted from the younger man to be replaced by contentness and comfort.

“Thank you, Magnus.  _ Thank you _ ,” Alec breathed, his voice high with both wonder and gratitude as he stared with innocent, shining eyes at the Prince.

“It was my pleasure,” Magnus replied, still similing softly. “Now that that particular issue has been resolved, I believe that the bond would be eased even more with direct interaction with your parabatai and sister, would it not?” He said, gesturing towards the soon-to-be-enchanted mirror. Alec nodded enthusiastically, excitement at the prospect of talking to Jace and Izzy thrumming through his veins in the same way Magnus’ magic had done earlier.

“Oh, Alexander?”

“Yes?”

“You’re more than welcome to borrow a book whenever you like. Anything in this room is at your dispense, please don’t feel you need permission to use any of it. I should have clarified this earlier, I’m sorry.”

Alec simply ducked his head as a gentle red coloured his cheeks, and the Prince took that as thanks.

The two men made their way over to the mirror, and Magnus told Alec to sit in front of it, which he happily complied with, looking up at Magnus standing behind him as he awaited the next instructions.

Instead of verbal direction, the warlock began a series of movements so precise and graceful that Alec found he could only describe it as some form of dance. A myriad of colours twirled above the Prince’s head, fading softly from red and yellows to green and blues, before shifting  to purple and silver and then repeating over and over. The colours intensified each time, darkening and thickening as it spun round and round, small sparks fizzed away from the main body of magic and disintegrated on its way to the floor. Alec was transfixed, and alternated between staring at the magnificent display of magic and the raw determination on Magnus’ face. The Nephilim picked up on the little endearing features that the Prince’s determination embodied: his pink tongue poking out between plush lips, cat-eyes calculating and confident, muscles taut with concentration as he moved in that well-practised way, like performing magic was a fluent second language that he could switch to when necessary. Perhaps it was, Alec mused, before catching movement behind him. 

He turned, and saw the surface of the mirror exemplifying the colour continuum that still raged above Magnus, the shades mingling and solidifying as it undulated like waves. A beat passed with the Nephilim just watching in awe, until he heard Magnus’ breathing becoming laboured and looked up in concern.

He didn’t want to disrupt the enchantment and undo all of the warlock’s hard work, but he saw his eyes flick down to meet Alec’s, and he held one ring-adorned hand out as his other hand continued the complex movements.

“I need your strength,” Magnus murmured, like it pained him to ask something of the younger man. 

Alec grasped Magnus’ hand tightly. “Take what you need.”

He immediately felt pressure build in his head, and a sensation akin to water running down his skin as the warlock lapped up his spare energy resources. After a few moments had passed with the same feelings, Alec felt nausea and lethargy set in, and he leant back against the Prince’s legs for support. As soon as they made contact, Magnus pulled his hand away with a worried glance in Alec’s direction, before falling to his knees with exhaustion, still managing to perform the same enchantment motions. His movements were slow and clumsy now, and the Nephilim took Magnus’ hand so he could take strength, but was pushed away with a sharp shake of the warlocks head. 

“Magnus, take it!” Alec shouted desperately. The Prince looked close to collapse, but shook his head again. “Take my strength!”

With a pained groan, Magnus pushed his arms forward towards the mirror, and one small ball of magic shot across the surface. It glimmered a barely distinguishable shade of red, nearly transparent, before absorbing into the reflective glass and vanishing completely.

The Prince fell forwards, not even bothering to put hands out to catch his fall, Alec rushed backwards to catch him. He scooped the older man into his arms, and felt how cold and clammy his golden skin was. Panic bubbled up in his throat, and he focussed on getting his breathing back as he ran different courses of action through his mind.

The warlock grew still, until the only sign of life the Nephilim could gain was the weak heartbeat from his chest. He let out a strangled cry, and hurried to the door, running down the corridor on his mission to find help.

Who could help?

Who could help?

Who could help?

Alec didn’t  _ know _ . . . who had Magnus mentioned earlier? The woman that also forgot to eat and take care of herself?

Catherine? No, Alec thought,  _ Catarina _ !

Infirmary leader Catarina could help them!

He ordered the nearest cleaning staff member to point him in the direction on the infirmary, and he was sprinting before the young woman had even finished answering. He burst through the infirmary door panting from physical exertion and the strength Magnus had needed, before scanning the busy room and deciding that time was of the essence. 

“Catarina!” He yelled, noting a few strange looks from some nurses, but a blue woman spinning round with an unimpressed look on her face as she walked over to him.

“And you are?” she asked.

“No time!” Alec burst, taking her forearm and gently pulling her along behind him. He dropped her arm with a yelp as his skin turned ice cold.

“Touch me again and you’ll lose your hand, are we clear?” Without waiting for an answer, she carried on. “Now, I have patients to attend to, what do you-“

“Mag-  _ the Prince _ needs your help! Please, Catarina!”

“Take me to him,” she ordered, voice suddenly business-like. Alec complied easily, mindful not to touch her as he weaved through the infirmary and back to their chamber. He held his hand against the door and stumbled through when it flew open. 

Catarina dropped down next to Magnus and a green aura suddenly encompassed the two warlocks. Alec remained a respectful distance away, but the sudden seizure ripping to the surface from the male tested his restraint. Magnus was convulsing on the floor, frothing at the mouth as as he thrashed his limbs in every direction. He threw a desperate look at Catarina, who glared at him as if to say  _ how dare you doubt my ability _ , and returned to chanting unintelligible words under her breath, the green aura solidifying until Alec could no longer see or hear them. The Nephilim’s heart pounded, and he fought back the sudden urge to cry. He darted forwards, hammering his fists on the dark green walls that had formed, not detecting any weak spots or points of entry, “no,” he mumbled, “ _ no _ ! Please, please be okay.” He slumped down onto the floor and rested his head against the unforgiving strength of the opaque green surface. 

He finally let the tears spill, and continued crying until he fell forwards at the sudden disappearance of the green.

Catarina was sat on the ground, her legs crossed as she repeatedly carded a hand through Magnus’ sweaty hair. She looked exhausted yet she sat proudly, her back straight and eyes focused.The Prince was still, but Alec could see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed; other than that, there seemed to be no difference other than the peaceful look on his face, but was he back to normal?

“Will he be ok?” Alec asked the infirmary leader. He was met with an unimpressed look from the blue lady.

“Would I have stopped healing him if there was something more I could be doing for him?” She didn’t sound defensive and the question seemed rhetorical, more a statement than actually requiring an answer.

“You’re right,” Alec said, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry. Thank you, for saving him. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

“Oh,” she scoffed, “he definitely would have died. Magic exertion does that to you. Speaking of which, I believe you owe me some answers,” she didn’t wait for him to agree, “what was Magnus doing that used all of his magical resources?”

Alec hesitated, remembering the Prince making him promise to keep the mirror secret. But Magnus had also called Catarina his best friend, surely she wouldn’t sell him out to the King? He decided to follow his gut, and tell her the truth.

“He was trying to enchant a mirror so I could talk to my siblings.”

“And why was he trying to do that?”

“Because I have a parabatai, and our bond is strong so separation hurts us both. Magnus wanted to help, and I let him, but if I’d have known that it would do this to him I would have stopped him.”

Alec was surprised by his words being true. Helping the parabatai bond wasn’t worth the subsequent pain that Magnus had endured. His answer must have been acceptable, as Catarina graced him with an approving nod.

“I’m sure you would have tried, but Magnus is headstrong like his father,” she shook her head sadly, “he would have done it anyway; at least this way you could get help after it went too far. Now, on to my final questions: who are you and why were you in Magnus’ chamber?”

“Alec Lightwood, and I was here because I’m Magnus’ body slave,” his voice even, and he hoped that Catarina wouldn’t ask further questions on the matter.

“You’re lying. Magnus would never have a body slave, he disagrees with the use of them,” her voice suddenly turned dangerous and even her skin seemed to turn a darker shade of blue,“so tell me why you were in Magnus’ chamber, _ right now _ , or I’ll have you tried for the  attempted murder of the Prince of Edomia. I’d get talking if I were you.”

“I’m not lying!” Alec exclaimed, the words bubbling to the surface as if they had a mind of their own. “I really am Magnus’ body slave but he doesn’t use me for sex. We just have to make everyone think that he does because if not either his father will force himself on me or he’ll get my little sister to join his harem. I was here because Magnus wanted to help me heal the bond with my adopted brother and I was sharing my strength to help him through the enchantment so then I got tired but I still wanted him to take my strength anyway but Magnus just wouldn’t and then he used all his power and then he collapsed and he hasn’t woken up since and I just want him to be ok,” Alec rambled, the words slipping out of him as if by some magnetic force. He clapped his hands over his mouth to prevent more verbal slips.

Catarina grinned, “I have to admit, Shadowhunter, that was  _ the _ best answer I’ve ever heard from a truth spell. It was longwinded and so unbelievable I have no choice but to believe you. And you’re damn right that Magnus would never use you for sex, don’t you forget it.”

A deep groan escaped Magnus’ lips from his position on the floor. Catarina placed both palms on the floor and Magnus floated over to be laying on his back on the bed, then she motioned Alec to step back, who hesitantly obliged.

“Magnus, can you hear me?” The blue lady asked, switching back to infirmary mode.

“Mmhmm,’ was Magnus’ weak response, “where’s ale’? he ‘k?”

Catarina looked puzzled for a second, before beckoning Alec over. The Nephilim sat on the edge of bed and took the older man’s hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“I’m here, Mags. I’m right here with you.” The nickname had slipped out accidentally, and Alec was about to apologise for it but refrained when he saw the dopey smile it teased from the Prince’s face.

“I’m sorry my strength wasn’t enough to stop this from happening to you,” Alec said quietly, remorse tangling with self-deprication.

The Prince weakly squeezed his hand.

“You stupid Neph’lim, your st’ength kept this f’om bein’ worse. I was th’one tha’ didn’ wanna stop th’spell. Is my fault.”

“Never.  _ Never _ , Magnus Bane will this have been your fault. You were helping me, and it was wrong of me to ask so much of you.”

“I wan’ed to,” the warlock murmured with a feeble smile, “‘n it worked. Th’mirror works now. Y’can talk t’your par’batai, get th’bond better.”

“Thank you, Magnus. I will, as soon as you’re well again.”

Those beautiful cat-eyes found Catarina, who had been watching the exchange with an approving look in her eye. The Prince gave her a half-successful grin, “Cat won’ le’ anyfing happen t’me.”

“Who would be my drinking buddy if I let you die of magic exertion?” she answered, fondly, “It’s what we do, Maggy- look out for each other.”

The royal nodded, but a seriousness had overcome him, “You’re right, we do.”

“I need to get back to the infirmary, and before you ask, Magnus: yes I will make sure I eat, yes I won’t use any more magic today unless I can avoid it, yes you will be fine, and yes I approve of your new boytoy but bringing him to the castle and making him think you were going to rape him- what were you  _ thinking _ ?”

“S’ry. Was jus’ tryna help him save his siblin’s. ‘n thanks for helpin’ me.”

“Don’t let it happen again, Maggy, I’m serious. You’ll be fine within the hour, but you need to start taking better care of yourself.”

“I’m going to help him take care of himself, Catarina, I’ll make sure he’s sleeping and eating enough, and not using too much magic. You have my word.”

She inclined her head respectfully, something vulnerable glimmering under her tough exterior, and then left the chamber.

“Do you need anything- food or some water or rest or something?” Alec inquired.

“Some food’d be good. Choc’ate strawb’rries?”

“I’ll ask Simon,” the Nephilim answered softly, and he tucked a blanket round the Prince, smoothing his black and silver hair off of his face. Magnus’ eyes fluttered closed, and Alec daringly leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the warlock’s forehead.

*** ***

When Alec entered the kitchen for the second time that day, he was relieved to find that Clary wasn’t there. Instead, several other members of staff were working on what he presumed to be a lunch buffet. The Nephilim spotted the back of Simon’s head on the other side of the island, in front of a saucepan. As the contents bubbled away, the chef drummed out a rhythm on the countertop with a wooden spoon, eyes closed as he hummed along loudly. 

When Alec reached him, he coughed to catch the chef’s attention, and Simon spun round, knocking the pan off the stove as his arm turned and flailing to catch it before it spilled. Alec darted forward and caught the pot before the younger man’s hand had even neared it.

“Woah, those were, like,  _ lightning _ reflexes dude. Also thanks for saving my soup, King Azzy would have definitely killed me if it arrived late. Like,  _ one and hundred and ten _ percent dead. One hundred and  _ fifty _ percent dead if he’d heard me him ‘King Azzy’.” The chef shuddered at his own words.

Alec raised a condescending brow, “That does sound very dead.”

Simon nodded solemnly, “It would be,” then he brightened, a large smile gracing his lips, “anyways, what brings you to the kitchens?”

“I need some food for the Prince . . . he asked for chocolate strawberries, but I’ll take some of his other favourite foods as well if you have any of it.”

The chef looked at Alec, and his eyes were suddenly small and sad, all traces of a smile replaced by a small frown. Creases snaked between his brows as he cocked his head in quiet thought. “Chocolate strawberries are his energy snack. Oh . . .,” the chef trailed off, looking troubled, “I’ll get you something while you wait. I’m sure Magnus isn’t the only one that needs his energy back,” at Alec’s confusion he simply patted the Nephilim on the back reassuringly. As Simon turned to give orders to the staff around him to collect Magnus’ favourites, it clicked. Simon thought that he and Magnus needed food to recover the energy they’d used for  _ sex _ . Alec flushed scarlet.

But did the head chef really think that the Prince was so uncaring he would use Alec for his body and then immediately send him away for chocolate strawberries? Did the chef really think that Magnus would use him for his body full stop?

Then the Nephilim realised that he would have to play along, especially if the warlock wanted rumours spread about their sex life. Hopefully, Simon would gossip about them, and word would get back to Asmodeus. Alec prayed that that would be enough to keep him or his little sister from being forced into the King’s bed.

Simon opened a fridge to his right, and pulled out a cold cheese platter and a plate of cold sliced meat. He put some of the cheese on the plate with the meat and then slid it along the counter to Alec. 

“Eat up,” he said with obviously forced enthusiasm, before stepping closer to Alec and speaking quietly, so only the Nephilim could hear him: “I-I’m sorry that he’s doing this to you, and, and I’m really sorry that I can’t stop him but just . . . just come down here whenever you can, ok? I’ll get you some food and Clary’s real good friends with one of the nurses up in the infirmary so she could always, you know, like, give you a checkup or, or whatever.”

Alec nodded, and let the gratefulness that he had someone looking out for him (albeit in a false emergency situation) seep into the shy smile he gave the younger man. “Thank you, Simon. For all of this.”

The chef clapped him on the back and grinned before gesturing back to the plate of meat and cheese, “bon appetite, dude.”

Alec ate the food, finding that the emotional events and strength he had given Magnus had really zapped the energy out of him. The cheese was pleasantly cold, and the meat was fresh enough that it hadn’t gone dry and gritty yet. When he was finished, Simon handed him a box and a big bottle of cool water and told him to try and enjoy the rest of his day. The Nephilim discovered that he was beginning to be able to decipher Simon’s facial expressions, and found that the chef’s smile was genuine, but marred with pity and concern that Alec felt guilty for causing unnecessarily.

He wished Simon a good day, and then left the kitchen to return to Magnus’ chamber.

*** ***

When Alec entered the chamber, he was pleasantly surprised to see Magnus up and about, regardless of the warlock simply sitting at the vanity desk applying his eye makeup.

“Alec!” Magnus smiled as the Nephilim entered. The smile unfolded into a full-on grin when he saw the box of food Alec set down beside him. He opened the lid to see the grapes, peanut butter sandwiches and chocolate strawberries that lay inside. The warlock’s cat-eyes widened as he took in the bounty.

“See!  _ This _ is why you’re my favourite person in the castle!” The Prince exclaimed. Alec laughed and passed the box to Magnus, who immediately took out some of the peanut butter sandwiches and ate them ravenously.

The Lightwood sat in the armchair opposite Magnus’ favourite, and the warlock joined him, placing the box on the coffee table between them.

“Simon put this together?” The Prince asked between mouthfuls.

Alec nodded, and considered whether or not to tell Magnus about what the chef had said to him. He chided himself for already holding so much weight in their promise for transparency, but knew he’d feel guilty if he didn’t share it.

“Yeah, he knew what all your favourite foods are when you need energy, and assumed that we’d been in bed together since breakfast. That you’d, you know, been using your body slave,” now that Alec knew Magnus would never make him follow through with what his title suggested, he felt slightly more comfortable about using it in reference to himself. 

“I see,” Magnus answered thoughtfully, his eating speed slowing. “Did he say anything about it to you?”

“He gave me some food, told me that I’d need my energy back. Then he said that I should come back when I can and he’d get one of the infirmary nurses to give me a checkup. He was really nice about it, actually.”

“That’s Simon Lewis for you- too kind for his own good,” the Prince sounded fond, and Alec wondered how close they were, “It’s one of his only flaws: too kind and too trusting. I suppose it’s good though, in this instance, for you to know you have someone you can turn to if you ever need it.”

“I have you for that, Magnus. I don’t need anybody else.”

The Prince’s luminous pupils dimmed with sadness, though he turned towards the window to hide it. “I may not always be here for you to turn to, Alexander. But you have Simon, and Catarina would look out for you also, if you ever needed her.”

“Why?” Alec asked, his heart beating a little faster with building panic, “Why might you not always be here?”

“Sometimes I’m needed away from the castle, to speak on behalf of my father with other councils and nations.”

“But I’d be with you, right? I mean, I’d go as well, wouldn’t I? To keep up the body slave pretence?” The questions fell like heavy bricks in a torrent that Alec didn’t bother to stop. Magnus wouldn’t leave him alone at the castle, would he?

The Prince avoided his gaze, keeping his cat-eyes carefully trained on the floor in front of Alec’s armchair.

“It isn’t allowed,” the warlock said quietly, and Alec forced himself to not stop breathing at the impact those three words had on him, to not have a panic attack, to not think about all the things that could happen to him if he were alone in the castle at Asmodeus’ mercy, to not think about being apart from this vibrant man that illuminated everything around him. “There are no slaves permitted to meetings of high importance, in order to keep nation’s secrets safe and minimise foul play. I can’t bring you to them, Alexander, I’m so sorry. But Catarina would look out for you, and Simon would too. Bisc- Clary will also overcome her prejudices and see you for the wonderful man you are, so she’ll be on your side as well. Clary is an important woman to be allied with, Alec. Besides, there are not that many of such meetings that I have to attend. Only a couple every month, so we can make plans for how to handle you being here without me for those occasions.”

Alec laughed, a hollow, desperate laugh.

“Only a few a month? You can kid yourself all you want,  _ your Highness _ , but we both know that the second you leave the castle Asmodeus will force me into his bed. Simon and Catarina and Clary can try their best but that is all that will happen. So while you’re off learning state secrets,  spare a thought for your weak, useless, inexperienced body slave being made to fuck your father!” Alec shouted, his eyes blazing with misplaced fury; he knew it wasn’t Magnus’ fault but it wasn’t  _ fair _ ! He’d only wanted to protect his siblings!

The warlock recoiled like he’d been slapped, and Alec belatedly realised that there were tears in the older man’s eyes.

“Of course I’ve thought about that, Alexander! I was planning protective spells and to give you tasks that would keep you away from my father! I don’t want to leave you any more than you want me to.”

“Then don’t leave me here with him! You know what he’ll do to me!” Alec yelled, before his voice broke and he dissolved into tears. He looked up at the warlock, and saw that they were both crying, Magnus’ recently applied makeup running down his smooth, tanned face like thick black tar. Alec reached up to brush them away, guilt coiled tightly in his stomach.

“By the Angel, I’m sorry Magnus. I-I shouldn’t have said any of that. It’s not your fault if you have to leave,” Alec took a shaky breath, and tried to ignore Maryse’s voice in his head drilling in to him that  _ to admit fear is to be weak, and you’re not weak  _ are _ you, Alec? _ “I’m  _ scared _ of him, Magnus. But that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you, so . . . so I’m sorry.”

The Prince shook his head, tears still falling like raindrops smearing artwork as they ran down his porcelain skin. “Please don’t apologise, Alexander.  _ Lilith _ , I can’t even imagine that type of fear. But I promise that I’ll do all I can to ensure you’re away from him and you have people to look out for you if my duties mean I must leave the castle,” the warlock said, and even just his voice felt as heavy as the collective weight of all the apologies in the world. Magnus’ eyes darted to the door nervously, before returning to frantically search Alec’s face. The Nephilim felt goosebumps raise on his skin at the rare sign of anxiety shown from a man who was always so certain. “ _ Fight him _ ,” the Prince whispered urgently, “Alexander, if my father comes to force you into his bed  _ promise me _ that you will try your best to get away from him. I will handle whatever the consequences are. I promise I will protect you in the fallout; nothing matters more to me than your safety.”

“I-I can’t promise you that, Mags,” the nickname rolled off Alec’s tongue like honey, but his words were laced with desperation, “I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially not because of  _ me _ . I knew that this would happen to me when I came here, and as long as my siblings are safe, I’ll do anything. If I harmed your father, I’d be putting you  _ and _ them at risk. I’m their big brother, Magnus, I can’t let that happen to them.”

The Prince leant forwards in his armchair and grabbed the Nephilim’s hands, squeezing tightly enough that Alec wanted to pull away. “Alexander, I’ll handle it.  _ Please _ don’t let Asmodeus hurt you just because I left you alone and you think it will keep your family safe.  _ Promise me _ ,” Magnus’ voice was low but insistent, verging on hysterical as he tried to convince Alec that he would keep him safe. That he would go to the ends of the earth to do so. 

“Okay,” the Lightwood said quietly, “I promise.”

His heart clenched painfully as the lie left his lips, worsening tenfold when he saw the gratefulness in Magnus’ eyes at the Nephilim’s promise. But Alec had come to the castle to protect his siblings, and he couldn’t jeopardise that for anything. Or any _ one _ . If the king came for him, Alec couldn’t be foolish enough to believe he or his siblings would ever be safe again if he fought back. 

He gently pulled his hands out of Magnus’, and tried to ignore the cavernous, guilty ache that burned in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed and I’ll post chapter five as soon as it’s finished- as always, feel free to leave comments!  
> love and hugs, teenwolf24 xx


	5. The Shadows You Cast Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! This is my longest chapter *ever* which is pretty cool. People’s Choice Awards are still available to vote in so please vote to help us win our write-ins! 
> 
> trigger warning: there’s violence and elements of non-con in this chapter, but no rape takes place.

 

“Magnus?” Alec asked, after their box of energy snacks had been collected by cleaning staff. Their argument had been instantly forgotten in exchange for the Nephilim’s promise to defend himself against Asmodeus, even though he had no intentions of doing so. The warlock lifted his glowing cat-eyes from his book to meet Alec’s, questioningly. “Would I be able to use the mirror to- to talk to my siblings? If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, Alexander, you don’t need permission. Let me explain how it works to you, and from now on you can use it whenever you like,” the Prince said, setting his book down and heading over to the mirror with Alec in his wake. They both sat on the floor, with Alec central to it and Magnus peering over his right shoulder.

“Place your hand against the surface, and picture your siblings,” Magnus instructed, and the Lightwood obliged. He pictured Jace’s bicoloured irises, and how his hair glowed like liquid gold when the sunlight caught it from a certain angle over the walls of the Alicante academy. He remembered the first time he’d met his adopted brother, and the cocky smirk the boy had worn after throwing his knife at a perfect bullseye; Alec remembered the infinite other times he had seen that signature smirk grace his parabatai’s face. He thought of Izzy, and the glossy blanket of black waves that fell from her head like an elegant veil, and how she constantly tied it and pinned it and curled it, designing it like armour suited for a particular fight. He reminisced the countless moments he had caught her without her heels on, when they had hugged and she fit so perfectly against his collarbone. How he may not fit anywhere else in the world as well as he fit with his fiery baby sister.

As the thoughts swirled through his mind, the mirror’s surface began to undulate with a pulsating purple glow. He turned to check Magnus wasn’t performing magic so soon after his energy exertion, but the warlock was simply sitting and watching the mirror with innocent curiosity. The purple began to pulsate more rapidly like strobe lighting, before dissolving into the image of his siblings.

Izzy and Jace both looked tired, identical dark crescents shadowing under his sibling’s eyes despite the concealer Izzy had used to try and hide it. They were both peering down, and from the angle of the image in the mirror, it was clear that Izzy was holding the object they were seeing through. Magnus stood up and walked away from what he was sure would be an emotional greeting.

“Alec?” Jace said, just those two syllables filled with so much hope and naked need to see his brother that Alec almost flinched away from the intensity.

“Hi, brother,” he answered quietly, and he heard Izzy gasp in relief. Jace’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Is that really you?”

“How is this happening?” his siblings asked in unison, and the eldest Lightwood couldn’t help the smile that was teased from him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you both okay? What’s happened to mum and dad?”

“We miss you, big brother,” his sister said, her similarly hazel eyes round and glistening with unshed tears. “And Maryse and Robert were exiled to the city outskirts after the sentencing. They came to the house to collect their things and didn’t even say goodbye to us. Jace has asked to become an instructor at Alicante, and I’m going to be made weapon’s master, so hopefully we can afford to keep the estate.”

“Izzy that’s amazing!” Alec exclaimed with genuine pride, “You’ll make an excellent weapon’s master. And Jace, you’ll make a great instructor- just don’t forget to put the first-year grunts in their place.”

The blonde grinned wickedly. “Like I’ve forgotten the hours of latrine emptying and blade cleaning we got put on when we started training. I won’t be going any easier on them than our instructors were on us,” Jace’s grin faltered, and he continued in a more gentle voice. “How are you, parabatai? The bond’s been . . . all over the place.”

Alec paused, trying to find the right words.

“I’m doing better than I thought I would be.”

He felt Jace’s sudden unease flood the bond.

“H-has the Prince . . .?” his usually confident brother stumbled over his words, trying to convey what it was he wanted to know without being too harsh. Did he even want to know the answer?

Alec froze; he wouldn’t have to lie to his siblings about his lack of body slave duties, would he? He shot a look behind him to see Magnus leaning against the wall. The warlock peered back, a question in his eyes. The question there was easy for Alec to dicipher- if he felt he could trust Jace and Izzy to never tell a soul then he could tell them.

He didn’t even need to consider it. As he turned back to the mirror, he saw that Jace’s face had turned stony, and Izzy’s eyes had darkened from warm hazel to nearly onyx black.

“Why’s he watching us?” Jace spat, glaring at Magnus standing at the back of the room, and Alec’s eyes widened at the malice laced through the words. He spun round to apologise to the Prince, but the pure sadness in the warlock’s round cat-eyes stopped him in his tracks. He faced Jace.

“Jace, he’s not a bad guy. Really, he’s-“

“Not a bad guy?” the blonde raged. “Alec, I don’t know what he’s done to you but that’s not true. That’s- that’s Stockholm Syndrome!”

“It’s not!” Alec argued. “Let me explain, and then you’ll understand.”

Jace crossed his arms, waiting for the explanation.

“I need you both to promise me something first: that you won’t repeat to anyone what I’m about to tell you. Not mum or dad if you see them again, nobody at the Nephilim academy. Promise?”

The both noddedly sullenly, and Izzy gestured impatiently for him continue.

“Magnus isn’t using me as his body slave, he isn’t . . . forcing himself on me. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. I’m basically just a servant,” Alec said.

Something unidentifiable spiked in the bond, a mixture of pity and sadness, as his siblings glanced at each other with a troubled look on their faces. Izzy took a deep, steadying breath before speaking.

“Alec . . . just because he’s making you think you want to have sex with him, doesn’t mean you do. You don’t have any experience, big brother, so it’s easy to mistake it for consensual.”

The eldest Lightwood flushed red, “Izzy, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant we’re not doing anything. Like . . . at all.”

“Oh, thank the Angel,” his sister breathed, and it was carried on a relieved sigh. “That’s good Alec, that’s really good. I’m so relieved.”

He focussed on the bond, and the relief he felt there was reflected in the loosened posture of his parabatai, his arms hanging by his sides again, and his back less rigid and straight.

Jace met his brother’s eyes, saw the honesty shining in his hazel eyes like a beacon, and knew every word had been true.

“Parabatai,”Jace began, quietly, the word ‘parabatai’ sounding like a prayer. “I was so worried about you. I thought- I thought he’d . . . and I didn’t want you to think that- I didn’t thought you’d- damn it!” The blonde cursed in frustration at his inability to speak his thoughts.

“Jace, it’s okay. Don’t panic, just say what you wanted to,” Alec soothed. Jace met his gaze, and the older man saw the fear swimming in his parabatai’s bicoloured eyes.

“I thought he’d use you as his body slave and it would be awful for you and you’d think . . . you’d think that that’s how it always is.”

“How what always is?” Alec asked in confusion.

“Sex,” Jace said. “Because it isn’t awful,  Alec, and I didn’t want him to ruin it for you. Especially not your first time. So I’m glad that you’ll still get to experience that one day.”

“Oh,” he answered, oddly touched by his brother’s concern. “Thank you, Jace. We’re going to see where we end up but Magnus and I get on really well, brother. We’re seeing where it takes us.”

Magnus coughed quietly behind him, and Alec understood that his time was up for now. At the cough, he saw his siblings’ attention shift to the warlock. Alec also turned to see the Prince, whose face was blank as he looked back at the mirror.

“I’m sorry,” Jace said quickly, and Alec knew how rare it was for the blonde to admit he was in the wrong. “For saying that you’d done something to Alec. And thank you, for not making him follow the duties of his role- for not hurting him. You seem like a good match for him, I hope it makes you both happy.”

An uncertain smile graced the warlock’s face. “Apology accepted, blondie. And he does make me happy. Also, in answer to your second point- I won’t hurt him, ever, if there’s a way for me to possibly avoid it. You also have my word that I will protect him to the best of my ability.”

“Why?” Izzy asked, then rushed to clarify herself before she seemed rude, “Not that we don’t appreciate it, but why would you care so much about a servant’s well-being?”

Magnus looked at Alec warmly, affection shining clearly from beneath his luminous irises. “Because I’ve realised how special he is, and I have come to value his safety.”

Alec felt the bond relax, its tightness easing at the Prince’s words.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon,” the oldest Lightwood said, before pausing and checking with Magnus.

“I’ve told you before, Alexander,” the Prince said with an exasperated smile. “You can use the mirror whenever you have free time. You don’t need my permission.”

Jace and Izzy glanced at each other quickly, approval clear in their expressions.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Catch you later, big brother.” His siblings said in unison.

The mirror flashed purple before returning fading to the standard reflective surface.

The Nephilim felt simultaneously satisfied at having had contact with them, and yearning as he realised what it was that he was missing by being apart.

“Magnus, I . . . I can’t thank you enough. Truly.”

“It was the least I could do, given the circumstances,” the warlock replied, humbly.

Alec stood up from where he’d been sitting on the floor, and walked over to Magnus who was still leaning against the wall. He grabbed the warlock by the lapels, and leaned in to kiss him messily, their lips meeting hungrily as they gave in to their lust for one another. A pleased, surprised sound escaped Magnus, as he wrapped his own hands round the back of the Nephilim’s neck to bring him closer, deepening the kiss and feeling like the two were moving as one; lips and tongue moving in unison, Alec copying Magnus due to his inexperience, air shared between the two and their bodies so close they had nearly merged. A moan slipped from Alec’s mouth as his body tingled with a feeling he had never experienced before, all his blood rushing south before something hard rubbing against his thigh let him know that the blood had definitely gone south in Magnus’ body. On instinct, Alec moved one hand down the warlock’s lithe body to his ass, squeezing tightly until Alec’s name slipped from the older man’s lips on a longing moan that had Alec kissing him even more desperately, finally realising what it means to feel completely whole. Magnus completed him, and if the way that they were moving like they couldn’t get enough of each other was any indication, there was much more of this to come in their future. The Nephilim began lifting Magnus’ shirt over the warlock’s head, only pausing the action to ask “Is this ok?” before continuing at the warlock’s “Hell, yes” and throwing it onto the bed when he had done so. Without slowing their messy, intimate kiss, Alec ran his hand over the Prince’s chest, toned and tanned and rippling with muscles, the Lightwood felt his fingertips explore the bare skin like it was new terrain. Magnus moaned again, but then pushed a hand against Alec’s shoulder to break the kiss off.

Alec felt his face flame red with embarrassment. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

Magnus waved him off, brushing messy curls off of the younger man’s forehead, who was looking at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, “No such thing.”

“Then what is it?” Alec asked, and the bewilderment was obvious.

“Nothing was wrong, my Alexander, it was perfect in fact,” the warlock said with a reassuring smile that eased the anxiety in Alec’s stomach. “It’s just that sometimes I get carried away, and I don’t want any of your firsts to be rushed, darling. I want them to be perfect, and I’d have ended up going too far, too fast if I’d let you continue.”

“Oh,” Alec said, brightening. “So we can do that again soon?”

Magnus laughed, happily. “I would like that, Alexander. I would like that very much.”

A knock on the door halted the moment, and Magnus was summoned to a meeting. Tradition dictated that he must bring Alec with him to introduce his new body slave to the other important figures of Edomia, and they both went to get ready. The pair took individual cold showers, Magnus reiterating that they didn’t need to rush into anything, before they left in silence; Alec not speaking because he wondered what would happen there, and Magnus not speaking because he knew full well what would.

 

*** ***

When they reached the Meeting Hall, Magnus pulled Alec aside before they entered.

“Do whatever they say, Alexander. My father will ask you questions, and possibly use a truth spell on you. The other council members may just observe, and it will feel uncomfortable but remember that anyone who dare lay a hand on you will hastily find it removed by me, okay? There are things I will have to say, to imply that you have been . . . used, and I apologise for that in advance, please remember that I’m just trying to keep you safe.” Ostensibly, the Prince sounded composed, but Alec detected the underlying panic. They both took a deep, steadying breath, and Magnus pressed a chaste kiss to the Nephilim’s lips to calm him.

Then they entered the hall.

The room was composed of two main features; the first being two raised podiums, one central and tall, and the second slightly to the left and marginally shorter. At the base of both podiums were two chairs, one chair for the respective body slaves, and one chair for the respective aides. The second feature was rows and rows of chairs, currently filled by men and women in bright, cheerfully coloured attire who were seated silently and expectantly as Magnus and Alec made their way to the lower podium. Alec took the seat on the left of Ragnor, who was rapping his fingers against the front of his folder anxiously. Magnus ascended the steps to the seat at the top of the podium, facing the crowd of council members.

Asmodeus topped the central, tallest podium, and his face cracked into a too-wide smile, verging on a smirk, at the sight of them entering the hall.

“It’s so kind of you to finally join us, son,” the King said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he gestured to Alec. “Care to introduce the rest of them to your latest conquest?”

From his position at the base of the Prince’s podium, it was impossible for Alec to see Magnus’ facial expressions, but when he spoke his voice was clear.

“Yes, Father. Council, it is my absolute pleasure to present Alexander Lightwood to you all,” he drawled, and Alec suppressed a grimace at the falsely blasé tone the older man had acquired. “Taken as punishment for his parents’ unforgivable acts of treason- and for use exclusively by myself, sorry to disappoint, my dears- the boy is now my body slave.”

Alec was left reeling from Magnus’ cold words, despite knowing they were purely for show. Then every eye in the hall turned to him, and he fought the urge to cringe away as he saw them all evaluating him, from absent glances at his messy hair to hungry stares at the tight top adorning his torso, it was impossible to miss. From the seat next to him, Ragnor splayed his palm on the folder, so the incessant tap-tap-tap of his fingernails fell into silence.

“And how was he?” the King inquired, leering down at the Nephilim from his podium. Alec kept his gaze carefully trained at the wall opposite him, just above the eyeline of the seated crowd.

“Tight,” Magnus sneered, and Asmodeus guffawed. “The boy was a virgin, but I fixed that problem for him.”

Ragnor moved his leg over, nearer to Alec’s, pushing it against the Nephilim’s as a reminder of his presence. Alec took comfort in the green man’s kind gesture: he wasn’t alone through this meeting.

“Oh, the pleasures of taking a virgin,” the king said, his voice taking on a wistful, longing tone. “Was he compliant? I would imagine that a Nephilim soldier would be rather defiant.”

From the rustle of clothing above him, Alec assumed the Prince had shrugged before speaking.

“He’s a feisty one- much too defiant for your liking, Father- I had to use magic the first time, to pin him in position. Since then he’s been marginally better, but he still needs a magic sedative to stop him fighting back. It’s all part of the fun, now, but I can certainly see why you prefer your more docile harem, Father.” The warlock spoke disinterestedly, but Alec knew that he must have thought about the best ways to put Asmodeus off of the idea of using him, without getting the body slave into trouble for insubordination.

The King hummed in answer, and the Lightwood felt his muscles relax imperceptibly; hopefully Magnus would be able to convince the King that Alec was not his desired taste.

“Sounds like a good sport though, my son, the chase and the kill, all found in one gorgeous body slave,” Alec felt his heart rate pick up, hammering his chest. They were meant to be showing that Alec wasn’t what the King wanted, not persuading him the other way round! “It has been a while since I have experienced the need for restraining magic in bed- it must add a little something, no?”

“No, it is tiring, to keep using magic while you are just trying to gain some pleasure,” the Prince responded, and the Nephilim detected the first hints of panic.

“I’m sure that after a few rounds with me the boy would learn what true servitude means. Whether by magic or by force, I would have fun beating the defiance out of him. He inherited it from his traitorous parents after all, it seems only fair that I get to eradicate it.” Asmodeus sounded excited by the prospect, and Alec sent a silent prayer to Raziel that Magnus could still be successful in making Alec sound undesirable. Ragnor’s rapping on the folder resumed, a steady thrum of tapping.

“I am enjoying the process, Father, and he is becoming more obedient as the time passes, so intervention isn’t necessary. You also said that the boy would be exclusively for my use, did you not?”

“I did, but the King’s word is final and can change whenever he so wishes,” a threatening undertone accompanied the utterance. “And how obedient is he now then, part way through your ‘process’?”

The Nephilim detected the challenge in the final question, and wondered what Magnus would do next.

“Give us something to watch!” A council member yelled from the crowd. “To see how obedient he really is!”

Ragnor’s tapping got louder and faster, almost keeping pace with Alec’s thundering heart. The laughter of the council members was lost to the roaring of Alec’s blood in his ears, a slight tremble invading his hands as he clenched them into fists in his lap. He felt a small fizz of reassurance emanating through the bond, and knew his parabatai could feel his fear and anxiety.

Asmodeus grinned sadistically, his tanned skin stretching tightly over his straight white teeth, as if the Prince’s unease brought him joy. It probably did, Alec thought to himself. “Yes, my son, show us how well-trained he is. I imagine the boy can be rather eye-catching when he puts his mind to it.”

The Nephilim’s stomach tightened with foreboding, nausea welling up, and he felt Ragnor’s leg push into his again in moral support.

“Exclusivity must have a different definition to you, Father,” Magnus said, and although his words were condescending his tone was even and deliberately intended to be too light to offend. “Because to me it means that something is not to be shared. Alec is mine, and the closest I will get to sharing him is by sight only. You may look at him now, Father and loyal council members, and I assure you that he will not misbehave.” The Prince sounded confident, and Asmodeus inclined his head before descending from the podium. As Magnus was sitting atop the smaller podium, he reached Alec first and the younger man saw the unspoken apology lingering in his cat-eyes as he told the obliging Nephilim to stand. Alec stood the way that all of Alicante’s students stood: back straight, hands clasped behind them, and feet planted shoulder-width apart.

“Move forward,” Magnus ordered, and even though his voice was commanding, his eyes were soft as he stood facing Alec with his back to the council members.

Alec stepped forwards just as the King reached them, and Magnus stepped aside to allow his father full view of the body slave.

Much like previously, when Asmodeus had circled him like prey, the King once again walked around him in a circle, luminous eyes roaming the Lightwood hungrily. When he had finished walking he simply stood facing the Nephilim, cat-eyes boring into the younger man’s as if he could see inside his soul. Alec felt something prickle along the surface of his skin like an electric shock, and went to move his feet a little further apart to ground himself.

But he couldn’t.

Asmodeus had spelled him still, and when he went to alert Magnus, he found he could no longer move his mouth- indirectly spelled silent, too. His eyes were the only thing spared, and he tried to meet Magnus’ cat-eyes desperately, hoping the warlock would detect something was wrong. But the warlock was watching Asmodeus’ moves carefully, and Alec’s lack of fidgeting was not unordinary for the trained Nephilim, so he paid it no mind. The King made to move forward, and Magnus was next to him in a heartbeat, shadowing his father’s movements as he stepped closer to the body slave. When Asmodeus reached Alec, with Magnus just a little behind him, he smirked knowingly. The King slowly ran a hand over Alec’s chest, dragging his fingertips further and further down until he reached the hem at the bottom of the Nephilim’s black tshirt. Anxiety zipped through him like lightning at the unwanted touch.

“Father-“ Magnus began, the barest hint of warning threaded through the word.

“I know, my son. Look but don’t touch. However, the boy doesn’t mind, do you Mr Lightwood?”

The prickling on his skin intensified, and then suddenly he could move again. Only, his body wasn’t doing what he commanded. As if sensing himself in the third-person, Alec felt himself shake his head, his lips parting as the words “No, your Highness. I don’t mind,” clawed their way out of his throat. But when they surfaced, he instinctively knew that they didn’t sound forced, they simply sounded quiet and subservient.

The voice in his head screamed it’s unease; no, no, NO, as his heart beat rapidly against his ribs- it’s new prison at his inability to move.

At Alec’s magicked answer, Asmodeus grabbed the hem of his shirt with two hands and ripped it clean in half, so it hung open like an unzipped jacket. His torso was exposed, and regardless of the spell the King had cast, he had enough control that the blood in his cheeks rose to the surface, colouring him a flaming red with embarrassment.

“Nice body, though the runes ruin the view somewhat,” Asmodeus mused, before squeezing Alec’s arm tightly enough to bruise. “I can certainly think of a few ways I could put those muscles to good use.” He grasped the Lightwood’s chin, jerking his face up towards the light as he considered the boy, his own cat-eyes narrowed in silent thought. He turned the Nephilim’s head this way and that way, dragging a hand along the boy’s jaw in a crude mockery of a caress. Alec couldn’t even fight back with his autonomy spelled away from him. As the hand moved down his face, Asmodeus dug his nails in like claws, breaking the skin in four jagged cuts so he felt rivulets of blood track down his cheek like teardrops. He knew he would be jerking away in pain if he could. The Prince automatically threw his hands out in a move that Alec assumed was intended to break the contact, but Asmodeus raised a hand and Magnus stilled.

“Father-“ Magnus began, before trailing off with panic etched over his face at the wounds Asmodeus had inflicted.

The Prince’s body reflected his horror and unease at what his father was doing, but knew that any intervention would be direct defiance- with every council member being a witness. The King’s hand snaked back up Alec’s jawline, ghosting over the cuts he had made on the Nephilim’s skin before reaching his hair. He pulled Alec’s messy brown curls in his fist and roughly pulled the younger man down to his knees by the roots of his hair.

He landed with a thud, but couldn’t move his mouth to cry out, and the world narrowed to nothing but his hammering heart, roaring blood and the pain in his knees from the violent landing. He tried to fight the spell, putting all of his energy into moving even slightly. But it was to no avail- he was still a hostage in his own skin, his only reassurance coming from the calm that Jace was trying to force through the bond.

“Father, Alexander is mine. Leave. Him. Alone,” the warlock finally growled, protectively, malice dripping from every word. His cat-eyes had darkened dangerously, locked on the King’s own luminous pupils.

Magnus looked away from his father to meet Alec’s panic-stricken eyes from where he knelt. The Prince frowned when he caught the expression, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows, and slowly spun a finger in the Nephilim’s direction. Small purple sparks flitted out the tip, disintegrating before anyone could see them. The prickling over his skin eased, replaced by the sensation of a cool wave washing over him. Alec realised that he was back in control of his body, and he grabbed the torn edges of his shirt and crossed them over his chest so he was no longer exposed. He stood up jerkily, re-acclimatising to being in control of his movements, and took solace in the familiarity of his soldier's stance.

Magnus looked furious.

He whirled to face the King, planting himself firmly and protectively in front of Alec, anger clearly scorched across his face, his cat-eyes blazing, angry magic firing into the air like sporadic bullets, and his mouth drawn back into what Alec could only describe as the face animals make when they bare their fangs, his small white teeth showing.

“How dare you, Father!” he snarled. “How dare you touch what is mine!”

Alec flinched at the fury in his voice, the danger magnified by the bursts of uncontrolled magic shooting from the warlock’s fingertips.

When the King spoke, his voice was even, and the fact that he did not shout or yell only added to the power he conducted. He didn’t need to raise his voice for people to know that he meant business.

“I gifted you the Lightwood boy, and this is how you repay me? The only reason I am not sending you to the lower reaches of the spiral labyrinth for this is because I think you already know that this little outburst was a mistake. You won’t slip up like this again, nor will you lose your temper with me again. It is time you learnt to respect me, son, and don’t think I won’t use your new pet to do so. Apologise to me, Magnus. Tell me how sorry you are for challenging my authority.”

The order was infuriating for Magnus, who knew that he had no real choice on the matter; apologising meant admitting his reaction had been out of order, but not apologising meant being sent to the spiral labyrinth.

“I’m sorry, Father,” the warlock muttered, no emotion behind the words. “I should remember my place, and I should have known better than to treat you with such a lack of respect. It won’t happen again.”

Asmodeus smiled widely, “That’s all I needed to hear, my boy! You are dismissed, but I will see you for dinner this evening- I’m sure we can discuss a way to put this all behind us. Council dismissed- I will allow Commander Lucian Grey to decide the finalities on this matter.”

The room emptied quickly, like a plug had been pulled, and Magnus grasped Alec’s sleeve as they went to leave, Ragnor trailing just behind them. However, the King held an arm out in front of them, barring them from exiting.

“I don’t recall saying that all three of you were dismissed,” he said mockingly.

“No, but you said that I am dismissed. I am simply taking my staff with me,” Magnus answered, careful not to challenge his father so soon after their dispute.

Asmodeus placed a hand on Alec’s shoulder, and he tensed at the unwelcome and unexpected touch. Magnus’ magic began fizzing again, but a small nod from Alec calmed them out of existence.

“I will be keeping this one until dinner,” the King said, with a rough shake of the Lightwood’s shoulder that turned the man’s stomach. “We need to have a little . . . chat.”

“I had planned to put him to use after the meeting was finished-  may I suggest that I take my body slave back to my chambers and you call a man from the harem to yours?” Magnus suggested lightly, purposefully keeping his gaze off of the uncomfortableness in Alec’s face.

“Oh, but I still need to teach you a lesson,” Asmodeus replied with a sly smile, and the threat was clear as day despite the unsuspecting tone. “It is obvious from the protectiveness you have shown towards the Lightwood boy that he is the best way for me to teach you it. Your lesson is this, son: I am more powerful than you, and I can take what you have from you in a split second. And it’s clear to me that this slave is what you want, so I am taking him away from you for now- simply because I can and I know it will infuriate you. We will see you at dinner, and don’t worry- he’ll only be a little worse for wear by the time I’m finished with him.”

“Father,” the Prince began desperately, not embarrassed to be begging with his father- not if it meant he would keep Alec safe. “Please, let me take him back with me. You taught me that it is important to stand by your word, and I told my slave that this was an exclusive arrangement. Just me and him, and I don’t want to break my word. The people here respect you because they know that you don’t lie; even if the truth is undesirable they know that you will still tell it, and I want to be like that! I don’t want to have already lied to someone who should have respect for me.” Magnus sounded slightly breathless at the end of his speech, but Alec waited with baited breath for the King’s reaction.

“Impressive,” Asmodeus eventually answered. “You certainly have an affinity for words, my son, but my answer is still no. Besides, I’m rather looking forwards to seeing what this one can do- all those stamina runes must come in handy for something, hmm?” Alec paled at the words. “To repeat myself, we will see you at dinner. But until then I'm happy to send a few members of my harem to your chambers to make up for the loss of your body slave for the next few hours if that is what you want? Oh, and Ragnor:  leave us. This is between me, my son and the body slave.”

Ragnor, in an unexpected turn of defiance, looked to Magnus for further instruction, but the warlock nodded and the green man left with a sympathetic glance back over his shoulder.

“I have come to find that my body slave is the one that I desire most in bed, I don’t think anyone else would be sufficient,” it was clearly hinted that it was inconvenient for Magnus to be parted from Alec. “But thank you for the offer, Father.”

“Well I look forward to seeing what it is about him that makes him so appealing to you,” the King leered, pulling Alec’s hair to the side so that the side of his neck was bared. Asmodeus leant forward, so his mouth ghosted over the Nephilim’s pulse point, before roughly biting the skin there with his teeth. He automatically tried to escape the King’s grasp, only to be held more tightly and then pushed up hard against the stone foundation of Magnus’ podium. Alec whimpered as his back collided heavily with the solid stone wall, the air jerked out of his lungs in one fell swoop, and the sound was a result of the slight pain but mostly the surprise and disgust at the unwanted action. A low growl sounded from Magnus, and Alec felt Asmodeus smile into his skin as he continued sucking and biting a line of painful hickies across his neck, but the warlock was impotent to help without angering his Father any further.

The King pulled Alec’s hair again, this time backwards, so the crown of the Nephilim’s skull was forced against the rough stones that composed the podium and the front of his throat was left vulnerable. Asmodeus idly trailed the tip of his pinky finger along the soft skin of Alec’s throat, and blood seeped from the shallow but long wound he had carved there. It looked like a crimson noose, and Magnus cursed Lilith for his impotency to confront his father as he knew full well that the older warlock had stronger magic. Fear pulsed through the bond from Jace- a result of the unexplained pain he could feel his parabatai suffering through, first his cheek, and then his neck, and now his throat.

“Father, please, stop this,” Magnus whispered, tears glistening in his cat-eyes so the surface looked like green-orange  molten lava.

“I don’t think I will, actually, my son. And didn’t I already dismiss you?” The questions as rhetorical, but Magnus answered anyway.

“You did, but I can’t leave him like this. Please, let me have him back. Please, my King.” It was rare for Magnus to refer to Asmodeus as his King, but it served two purposes in this instance: a reminder that Magnus knew the King’s position was higher, and it appealed to Asmodeus’ rather enormous ego.

The King seemed not to have heard, as he took the ripped edges of Alec’s tshirt and parted them so the Nephilim’s torso was left bare to the top of his black trousers. Magnus could see the rise and fall of Alec’s body was quickening, his mouth opening and closing in short, shallow breaths as his eyes clenched shut.

Asmodeus clicked his fingers, and Alec froze instantly, chest no longer rising or falling, so he looked like a mannequin. Magnus knew this spell -despised this spell- and knew that Alec was still alive, but the spell halted any movement in the body- he would be alive but unable to breath until the King removed the spell.

“My Ki-“

“You will not get him back until I am finished with him,” Asmodeus interrupted, and his voice commanded obedience, filling the Hall with its projection and authority. The King turned to face Magnus, and the younger warlock could have cried as he made contact with his father’s eyes- they were glowing, of course they were, but they glinted like freshly sharpened blades. Asmodeus turned back to Alec and clicked his fingers again.

The effect was instant.

Alec stumbled forwards on shaking legs, falling heavily to the floor and gasping for air as his heart restarted. His eyes were wide with panic and brimming with tears, arms wrapped protectively around his chest, and when a hand reached down to grab him by the chin, he instinctively shoved it away, arm muscles tightening with the power he used to do so. The King stumbled back a step from the force the Nephilim had used to deflect his hand, and his magic burst out in unchecked, furious rage. Whereas Magnus’ angry magic looked like fireworks, the King’s looked like bullets, and Alec scrambled backwards when he saw the blood red bullets heading in his direction.

Magnus threw a hand out, desperately, and a translucent shield appeared in front of Alec. As Asmodeus’ magic reached him a split second later, the bullets hit the shield and clattered uselessly to the floor before disintegrating. The King clenched his fists and whirled to face his son.

“How dare you defy me!” He roared, before yelling an incantation that Alec didn’t understand but comprehended the grim basics of when Magnus fell to the floor with a pained yelp, landing in a writhing heap. He threw himself over to the younger warlock, ignoring whatever Asmodeus was doing in favour of trying to turn Magnus onto his side so he didn’t choke on his tongue as he continued sporadically jerking his limbs about and shaking his head from left to right.

“Magnus!” he yelled above the thrashing. “Magnus, you need to fight it! Fight the spell!”

Alec held Magnus on his side when the writhing showed no signs of letting up, whines and whimpers escaping the warlock’s lips as a fevered sweat broke out on his forehead.

Tears filled the Nephilim’s eyes at his uselessness- he was a soldier, he wasn’t meant to be helpless- as he turned to see Asmodeus watching the pair with curiosity but making no moves to intervene.

“Please,” Alec begged, the tears spilling from his eyes. “Please stop hurting him.”

“He undermined my authority. This is his punishment,” the King answered in a bored tone, without taking his eyes off of his seizuring son.

“Hasn’t this been punishment enough? Please, my King, he doesn’t deserve this.”

Asmodeus finally pulled his gaze over to the Nephilim, a question lingering there.

“Why does this matter so much to you, boy?”

Alec froze: what was the best way to answer this?

“I’m his slave,” was all he had a chance to say, because a muffled scream sounded from Magnus, and the Lightwood immediately turned back to soothe the thrashing warlock. He brushed a lock of damp hair from Magnus’ forehead as the warlock’s mouth contorted into an unreleased scream, cat-eyes pulsating like flashing alarm lights. “Your Highness, I beg of you, please stop the spell,” Alec choked, sparing another look at Magnus who had curled himself into a ball as his body shook with the force of the seizing. “He can’t take much more of this. Please, I’ll do anything- anything.”

A snap sounded from the King’s direction, but Magnus still lay there spasming. Choked, half-aborted noises tumbled from the Prince’s mouth in a stream of pained sounds, and Alec fought back a sob.

“Stop hurting him!” The Nephilim shouted, fear giving way to righteous anger.

“I have,” the King snapped. “These must just be the aftershocks. And need I remind you to watch your tone when you are speaking to your leader.”

Alec leant over Magnus, starting the process of gently coaxing his body out of a ball so that he was flat on his back. He was still shaking, and his limbs were resistant after having cramped up from the pain, but the Nephilim rubbed small circles into the muscles until they were pliant again. It was time consuming, often taking several minutes for just one muscle to loosen up enough to move, but Alec was grateful to have something he could focus on. Asmodeus just stood there, impassively, watching the body slave work.

When Magnus was laying flat, Alec took one of the warlock’s hand between his, stroking the palm with his thumbs.

“Come back,” the Nephilim whispered, feeling marginally comforted by the fact that the Prince looked peaceful now his body wasn’t suffering through the aftershocks of the seizure. “Please come back.”

“He will wake eventually,” the King said, sounding bored. “The spell wasn’t permanent, nor was it fatal.”

“Well isn’t that just great,” Alec spat, before remembering who he was talking to.

Asmodeus cocked his head and considered Alec carefully, seemingly oblivious to the lack of proper title. “You don’t approve of my actions,” he said, and although it was a statement, the Nephilim detected that he genuinely wished to know the younger man’s opinion.

Alec snorted. “Obviously.”

“You never finished telling me why you care about what happens to my son.”

“He’s my master.”

“Yes,” Asmodeus said with a disinterested wave of his hand. “But why do you care about him?”

When Alec hesitated, the older warlock murmured something in another language and the Lightwood felt magic zinging through his body.

“Truth spell,” the King said, as Alec shivered against the internal invasion. “Now, tell me why you care about my son.”

The words were lined up before Alec even had a chance to process the question, spilling out his mouth before his brain could fight the spell.

“Because he’s kind and patient and gentle.” Pain gripped the boy’s neck like a vice as he struggled to alter his next words so they were less offensive. “He deserves much better than what he’s got,” he choked, hoping that Asmodeus wouldn’t read between the lines. But nobody could deny the intellectual ability of their leader, who picked up on the deliberate avoidance immediately.

“Deserves better than what?” he asked, with one eyebrow arched questioningly.

Magic that burned like fire raced up the Nephilim’s throat as he clamped his mouth shut against the word that fought to be released. He struggled against the spell, biting his lip so hard he drew blood, but refused to give in. He couldn’t say what battled to be voiced, and shook his head frantically, as if he could shake the word from his mind. Veins in his neck bulged as he locked his jaw stubbornly, the burning sensation in his throat intensifying the longer he resisted the spell. The noose-like wound that trailed across his skin throbbed, and fresh blood leaked from it.

The King smiled, as if he were accepting an easy challenge, and threw his hand in his son’s direction. Blood red sparks burst towards the younger warlock, and upon making contact with Magnus’ skin, they sizzled and burned. The warlock remained still, but his skin was falling away in flakes of ash as the magic heated it until it blackened and peeled. The stench of burning flesh filled the air and Alec gagged. The word involuntarily exploded from his lips when his mouth opened to allow him to gag.

“You!”

Asmodeus’ face turned thunderous as he cracked his hand like a whip in Alec’s direction. Rope woven of magic burst from the King’s palm as it flew towards Alec, wrapping round his neck like a noose and yanking him into the air. He gasped and spluttered as the magic grew tighter, his legs thrashing wildly but uselessly as the tips of his shoes barely scraped the ground. His heart thundered; his blood pumping round his body so quickly he could hear it roaring in his ears as he felt his face flame red from asphyxiation. Wheezing rasps fell from his lips in a torrent as the panic set in, fingers fighting to pull the enchanted rope from his neck, but finding nothing physical as his hands moved straight through the magic.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Lightwood. And I don’t like to be left in the dark. I’d start talking, if I were you, because my magic doesn’t enjoy being kept waiting.”

The truth spell rose it’s head again, and with Alec focussed on trying to inhale more oxygen, it met no resistance as it surfaced.

“I love him,” he rasped, as black spots entered his vision and swirled into a kaleidoscope of darkness. His vision tunnelled as his legs stopped thrashing, and he felt his body going numb as he realised that he wasn’t going to survive this. He distantly heard a chuckle, and the words “yes, i thought so,” spoken from somewhere in front of him, but his eyes had drooped closed and nothing in his body seemed to be functioning properly.  He was just letting the darkness envelope him into its clutches like a warm, welcoming blanket when a click sounded and he fell to the floor with an audibly painful sounding thud.

Oxygen surged into his lungs like a heaven he didn’t even think the Angels could provide, as he gaped for more like a fish in water. He didn’t even register movement until he realised that Asmodeus was crouched in front of him, cat-eyes glowing as they searched the younger man’s face before he nodded and hummed to himself.

“Do you believe that my son loves you in return? And I’ve removed the truth spell- everything I truly need to know has been learned.”

Alec frowned, still panting, as he considered. “I- I’m not sure,” he answered, honestly. Yes, Magnus had enjoyed their kiss earlier, but was that lust or love? Izzy had always told him that there was a big difference, but he had no idea how to identify that difference.

“Well, lucky for you, little Nephilim, I have an excellent game we can play with my son to find out!” The King said, sounding disturbingly gleeful. “What do you say?”

“No, your Highness. I’d rather not, actually,” Alec replied.

“Weeeell,” Asmodeus drawled, dragging out the ‘well’. “You don’t actually have any choice in the matter. But I’ll be generous enough to explain the rules to you: I’m going to make Magnus think I’ve killed you, and then we can see how he reacts. I’ll get answers, you’ll get answers- everyone’s happy.”

“Except your son,” Alec stated, bluntly. “Who’ll think that I’m dead.”

“What makes you so certain that he’ll even care?” The King asked.

“Because if you paid enough attention to him,” Alec began, certain that at this point he couldn’t make the situation any worse,  “You’d notice that Magnus cares about everyone. Even you.”

“Let’s test that theory shall we?” Asmodeus leered, and before Alec could argue otherwise, the King had formed a trap around him, a few spare inches between him and the sides of the trap all the way around. The walls of the trap were transparent, and if he couldn’t feel them from where his hand was resting against it like a mime act, he wouldn’t know they were there. He jumped, one arm reaching up to see if he could hook a hand over the edge of the clear wall and pull himself out, but he reached a flat, clear ceiling instead.

“Asmodeus!” He shouted. “Let me out!”

The King shook his head, then twirled his hand in the same way Alec and seen Magnus conjure magic so many times before. This time, silver sparks floated to the floor, and a body appeared, laying with its back to the trap so Alec couldn’t see its face. The warlock grinned, and then rolled the unmoving body over so it faced the Nephilim. Alec let out a strangled cry when he saw the face.

It was him.

It was Alec Lightwood, dead, curled into a ball around a knife buried hilt-deep in his chest. Blood blossomed out of the wound, a crimson puddle forming around the fake Alec whose eyes were open and unblinking.

The Lightwood guessed the King’s next action just before it happened, and he turned to face Magnus a split second before black magic circled the warlock. He shot bolt upright, spluttering, looking weak and pale.

“Magnus!” Alec called, hope blooming in his chest at the sight of the warlock awake. There was no response.

Magnus made eye contact with his father, who looked like he was trying to keep himself from giggling, both sets of cat-eyes bright and blazing.

“Use black magic on me again, father, and I swear to Lilith that it will be the last thing you do. Spiral Labyrinth be damned,” he threatened, voice a little rusty from the pained noises he had been making earlier. He had spoken slowly, and the words hung in the air maliciously.

“Magnus, I’m here!” Alec shouted again, whacking the side nearest the warlocks with his palm as he tried to gain their attention.

The Prince’s luminous eyes scanned the room, clearly searching for Alec. When his gaze caught the back of the body, he rushed to the fake Alec’s side, tears in his eyes. They fell in messy drops as he caught sight of the knife, and a choked sob escaped his lips as he fell to his knees. It was a raw, pained sound, and the real Alec felt his own tears start to fall from his eyes.

“Alexander,” he mumbled, turning the body onto its back, and conjuring green healing magic around his fist. He aimed it at the corpse, but the magic wouldn’t settle on it, falling away when it reached the cold skin there. “No, no! Alec, come on . . . wake up!” He shouted, desperately, slamming a fist into the wooden flooring.

“Magnus, that’s not me!” the Nephilim tried again, hammering his fists against the surface of the trap uselessly, knowing they wouldn’t even hear an echo of sound on the other side. “I’m here, I’m right here!”

The Prince’s folded over as sobs wracked his toned body, heaving like he was vomiting, as he took Alec’s hand between his. A cough sounded from behind him, and Magnus turned to face his father, scarily slowly. The Prince’s eyes were narrow and blazing, the green faded away so only reddish-orange was left, burning in his irises like deadly lava. Magic as red as the pool of blood he was kneeling in outlined the warlock, small sparks escaping and blackening as they fell to the floor.

“You did this,” Magnus stated, his voice disconcertingly even.

“I had to teach you a lesson, my son,” Asmodeus agreed, and Alec’s heart splintered when he saw the broken look that crossed the younger warlock’s face at his father’s insinuation that he was the reason why.

“Magnus, please. This isn’t real- I’m right here!”

The warlock looked back at the body, shaking his head as more tears fell, but he wiped them away hastily like they were a sign of weakness.

“Dad,” Magnus whispered, looking back up at his father, and that one word was filled with so much desperation and disappointment and sadness that Alec wanted to look away. Asmodeus’ indifferent mannerism seemed to falter slightly, unaccustomed to being referred to as ‘dad’ instead of ‘father’, something softer chasing away the rigidity for a moment. Magnus caught the slip, and latched onto it, going to appeal to whatever was left of the old warlock’s empathy. “Dad, please,” he begged, and Alec rested his forehead against the wall as he heard the sheer need in the older man’s voice. “Please bring him back, I don’t- I don’t think I can live without him. Not so soon. I know you’re strong enough, dad, please. My magic is still recovering and I’ve never asked for anything before, just this one thing. I beg of you. Dad.”

The King’s tough resolve slipped again at hearing Magnus ask him for something, when he was so used to his son being independent and confident. He’d practically raised himself.

“Tell me something first, Magnus,” Asmodeus said, and Magnus looked up through his tears, hopefully. The King gestured at the fake Alec’s prone form. “Do you love him?”

“Yes.” The Prince didn’t even hesitate, and despite everything, Alec felt his heart lighten at the answer.

The King murmured an incantation under his breath, clicked his fingers, and portalled out of the room with a flurry of blood red sparks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed (well, not enjoyed but ya know what i mean) and i’ll upload chapter 6 as soon as it’s finished!   
> love and hugs, teenwolf24 xx


	6. Broken By Design

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY FOR LEAVING THIS SO LONG IM THE WORST!! HERES AN EXTRA LONG CHAPTER TO SAY SORRY!!  
> in other news: we *finally* have an air date (feb 25th) and we’re getting a malec suprise in just under 2 hours so i’m very very very excited :)))))

Alec didn’t realise that Asmodeus had portalled out until he was falling to the floor from the sudden disappearance of the trap. After a negligible pause between landing and realising he’d landed, Alec was scrambling over to Magnus, who had a hand over his mouth in shock, the tears falling in a steady stream as he frantically glanced between Alec and the body. When the Nephilim reached him, Magnus scooted backwards and away from him, shaking his head quickly from side to side.

Confused, Alec tentatively moved closer, but the warlock kept the distance between them. The Nephilim decided to crouch down a respectful distance away, so he was level with the warlock, who was sitting with his back against his podium, head hanging miserably in his hands. His head jerked up at the sound of the younger man cautiously inching forwards.

“Stop it,” Magnus begged, voice breaking.

“Stop what?” Alec asked gently. “Talk to me, Mags.”

“Asmodeus!” Magnus shouted, desperately. “Please, stop this. I’ve learnt my lesson. You . . . you have more power than me, you hold all the cards. But Alexander’s gone,” he choked on the word as he looked at the prone body still laying on the floor, and Alec’s vision grew blurry with tears at this strong man sounding so broken. “Stop these games. Please. Please don’t ruin my memories of him if you had no intention of bringing him back to me.”

When there was no answer, the Prince drew his knees up to his chest, hugged his arms around them and sobbed into the solitude that provided him.

Instinctively, Alec moved a hand to the warlock’s hair, carding his fingers through the tangled spikes reassuringly. He felt Magnus freeze at the contact, but he seemed to find solace in the touch, as though it didn’t matter whether this Alec was real or not. Any version of his Alexander was better than no version.

After a few moments of this, Alec’s hand sticky with the gel he had acquired by running his fingers through the warlocks hair, Magnus pulled back and just looked at Alec, mapping his face. When he spoke his voice trembled with vulnerability.

“How do I know which one of you is real?” the warlock asked, with a fearful glance in the fake Alec’s direction. “How do I know you’re you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, truthfully. “How can I prove it to you?”

“I don’t know either,” Magnus whispered.

The silence suddenly felt palpable, and Alec hurried to fill it.

“Would I have my memories if I wasn’t really me?” He asked.

The Prince cocked his head in thought, cat-eyes wide and sad, glowing dimly.

“I don’t think so,” he said eventually. “If my fa-“ he choked on the word ‘father’. “If Asmodeus conjured a replica, he wouldn’t be able to get the memories from the original. Not if it was a memory that only the real Alec and I would know.”

The solution suddenly seemed blindingly obvious.

“That settles it then,” Alec said with a small smile. “Ask me questions that only the real me would know.”

“What were two important things that happened this morning?” the warlock asked.

“You taught me how to use the mirror to talk to Jace and Izzy, and we had our first kiss.”

Magnus nodded slowly and fired off another question.

“What food did I ask you to get from Simon?”

“Chocolate strawberries, but he ended up making you a whole box of stuff.”

Hope ghosted over the Prince’s face, his frown lightening into a delighted smile, the crease between his brows smoothing out.

“What’s my nickname for Ragnor?” He asked, quickly, propping his chin on his knees as he eagerly awaited the answer.

“Little Cabbage,” Alec grinned, and the expression was echoed in Magnus’ face, even as the warlock barrelled into him, enveloping the younger man in a crushing hug.

Alec laughed happily, wrapping his arms around Magnus and pulling him close as the warlock straddled his hips. They spent several long moments tucked together like that, resting their heads in the crook of the other’s neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” Magnus murmured into Alec’s shoulder. “I- I should have known it was you.”

“How could you have known? If it were the other way round I would have done exactly the same thing. Don’t blame yourself,” the Nephilim soothed, and Magnus exhaled shakily, the air warm against his skin.

“I don’t deserve you,” the warlock whispered, burrowing his face further into Alec’s neck. He jerked back when Alec flinched, and scanned the Lightwood’s face in concern, recognising the pain there. The angle he had been resting his head against the Nephilim’s shoulder at had obscured the wounds across his cheek.

Glowing eyes fell to Alec’s neck, then his cheek, widening in remembrance when they caught sight of the sore, bleeding hickies that had been bitten into Alec’s skin, and the four lengthy cuts running from his temple to chin. Green healing magic was curled around his fingertips before he even registered conjuring it, and he reached forward to heal them.

“It’s fine,” the Nephilim said, jerking back quickly and avoiding the warlock’s gaze. Alec heart pounded in his chest- he had to stop Magnus from using his magic on him, he had to.

“It’s not fine,” Magnus answered gently. “Please let me heal this, Alexander- it’s the least I can do.”

Alec snapped his eyes up to meet the warlock’s glowing irises. “This isn’t your fault Mags. None of it.” His voice was full of conviction.

This time, it was Magnus who avoided eye contact, shifting uncomfortably.

“But this wouldn’t have happened if I’d just protected you in the first place instead of waiting until his magic was going to kill you. I should have come up with an excuse for you not to come to the Hall. I should have-“

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Alec interrupted, taking the Prince’s hands in his own. “Don’t worry about the should-haves. What’s happened has happened and it’s nobody’s fault but Asmodeus’. You did everything you could, that’s what matters.”

The healing magic still swirled around the warlock’s fingers, dipping and diving. Magnus pushed it out towards Alec, the green progressing towards the Nephilim in undulations, like waves. The Lightwood’s eyes widened in panic, and he frantically pushed himself back away from it, purposefully dislodging Magnus from his lap, he pushed his knees up automatically, so the warlock fell more heavily and hopefully would stop his magic before he landed. Magnus called back his magic as he planted his hands behind him as he tumbled back, catching himself just before he would have slammed into the floor.

Alec had backed up against the wall, panting quickly and shallowly, but not from exertion. The whites of his eyes showed like a rabbit caught in headlights, frozen with fear.

The Prince considered the best method to approach the situation. Indecision warred inside him, but he settled upon just asking.

“It’s my magic, isn’t it?”  Magnus said quietly, and it wasn’t really a question.

Alec wrapped his arms around his torso and hugged his knees up to his chest- making himself smaller as Maryse’s to admit fear is to be weak, and you aren’t weak, are you, Alec? mantra whirled round in his head like a twisted theme tune. He shook his head incessantly, trying to knock his mother’s words from his head as he clenched his eyes shut against the tears that would betray the weakness he was trying so hard to conceal. The taunt got louder and louder until it was raging like a storm: his mother yelling the question at him, him slamming his door to try and quiet her, his muffled sobs as the words worked there way into his soldier’s mind- the mind that was desperate to be strong and faultless.

“I’m not weak,” he mumbled against Maryse’s voice in his head. “I’m not weak, please believe me.”

“You’re not weak, Alexander,” Magnus said, forcefully. “You’re stronger than anyone else I know.”

Alec opened his eyes and the warlock saw that they were vulnerable and glimmering with tears.

“You’re not weak, my darling,” Magnus repeated, inching closer to the cowering Nephilim until they were nearly touching. He didn’t force contact with the younger man, but let his hands hang in front of his crossed legs: there to take if Alec needed or wanted the support.

Maryse’s voice in Alec’s head finally quieted after hearing Magnus’ insistence, until it was just a dull thrum in the back of his mind. He cautiously flicked his eyes from Magnus’ hands to his glowing irises, deciphering the intent he saw there. What he saw was patience and compassion, and Alec only hesitated slightly before intertwining their fingers together. He found that the physical contact grounded him, and he ducked his head as a smile bloomed across his cheeks.

“Alexander,” Magnus murmured. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I just- can you . . .” Alec stammered. “Could you just not use your magic to heal me? I-I’d just prefer it to heal, er, naturally. If, if that’s okay, I mean.”

“Whatever you prefer, my darling, but the offer is always there. Now, would you like to get back to our chambers? I think we’re long overdue for some food and some rest- I don’t particularly mind what order.”

“By the Angel, yes,” Alec groaned, rising to stand and then pulling Magnus up by his hands. The Nephilim started towards the door but turned back when he didn’t hear Magnus move. He saw the warlock was doing the swirling-hands motion that Alec correlated with forming a Portal, glittering purple dancing through the air, and felt the tendrils of panic taking hold of him.

“I just need to clear my head for a moment so I’ll walk and meet you back at your chamber, if that’s okay?” He asked, somewhat anxiously. Magnus chose not to mention it.

“Of course, I’ll see you there.” Then he walked through the Portal, missing the forceful exhale of relief that the Nephilim released when the purple magic popped out of existence.

*** ***

When Alec reached the chamber door, he placed his palm against the wooden surface as he usually did. Perhaps sensing his mental exhaustion, the door slowly creaked open, and the Prince inside walked over to him as his fresh clothes glittered in the firelight. The Lightwood saw Catarina sitting in the armchair across from Magnus’, looking nervous.

Magnus stood before Alec in a new outfit- and sparkled in a pair of tight black trousers and a bright fuschia silk top embellished with tiny black gems lining the plunging neckline. The Nephilim felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Wow . . .,” he began, awkwardly. “You look, er, very-“

“Fancied a change,” Magnus supplied, as he adjusted his helix earring. Alec looked at the floor to hide the red creeping up his skin, and followed the older man further into the chamber. The Prince sat in his favourite armchair, and Alec took the stool so he was inbetween the two warlocks. He nodded at the blue lady in greeting.

“Alec,” Catarina said, softly and calmly, and the Lightwood recognised her nursing tone- the one she used for traumatised victims. “I’ve come to examine the wounds Asmodeus inflicted. Would that be alright with you?”

Alec glanced at Magnus, who was looking at him in concern but nodded his unneeded permission for the younger man to answer with the truth.

“How?” he asked, not surprised to hear his voice crack. “How do you examine them?”

If Catarina was fazed by the question, she didn’t show it. “However you would prefer: I can use healing magic or I can use the more traditional methods. Do you have a preference?”

“Traditional methods,” Alec blurted, the exact moment she had finished speaking. Then he hastily added, “Please.”

She nodded, then reached under the armchair to procure what he assumed to be a medical case. The warlock unlocked the small briefcase, and Alec was stunned by the vast quantity of equipment that fitted inside the little case: gauze and wraps, casts and plasters, stitches and antiseptic wipes, creams and drops, stethoscopes and temperature readers. She danced her fingers along the top of all the items before selecting two packets of antiseptic wipes and some butterfly stitches. Gesturing for Alec to move himself closer to her, the Nephilim dragged the stool nearer to the armchair, and she leaned forward with a wipe in her hand.

As she gingerly dabbed the wipe along each of the four nail wounds in turn, Alec clenched his jaw but made no sounds or other movements to suggest the pain that he could feel. He was a soldier, and such medical treatment was no stranger to him. When Catarina announced that the injuries were clean, she began to close them together with butterfly closure strips that began at his temple and snaked their way down the side of his cheek all the way to his jaw. He hissed a little as she pushed the skin together before closing the cuts, but sat obediently to let her do her work. He didn’t complain once, knowing that although magic would be painless, he wasn’t ready to have the feeling of it on his skin so soon after Asmodeus had used it against him.

When she was finished with the cuts on his face, she leaned back to examine the stitches and nodded her approval. Magnus let out a small sigh of relief from behind him at knowing that Alec’s wounds were clean and closed and ready to start healing naturally.

The Nephilim fidgeted anxiously at the thought of what was next, and the Infirmary leader picked up on it immediately.

“Alec, I wouldn’t do this unless I absolutely had to. All I’m going to be doing is cleaning them so they don’t get infected, but the healing will be entirely natural as the cuts aren’t enough to need butterfly stitches. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask?”

He shook his head slowly, cautious of not pulling at the bleeding bite marks and bruised skin on his neck. Catarina opened the other pack of antiseptic wipes, and Alec tilted his head to give her better access, carefully avoiding eye contact as she ran the wipe gently over the wounds. As she progressed, the Nephilim’s gaze grew cloudy and faraway, like he was somewhere else entirely inside his mind. When she was content that they were sufficiently cleaned, she briefly glanced at Magnus, who was looking so distraught on behalf of the still-distant Lightwood that a thought occurred to her.

“Mags, I’m going to need a moment alone with Alec,” the blue woman informed the Prince, who smiled at her antics. Anybody else would have asked his permission, but his dear friend knew that Magnus truly didn’t mind being bossed about. He did however raise a brow at her in question as to why, but the sharp shake of her head told him that it was a private matter. The thought of Magnus leaving him alone with another warlock snapped Alec out his trance and he whirled round to look at the Prince in panic. Magnus placed a placating hand on the younger man’s suddenly tense shoulder, trying to convey the safety that he knew Alec would be in with Cat around.

“You’re in good hands, my Alexander,” the Prince assured him, and Alec reluctantly nodded. “I promise you that nothing will happen. I’ll be back shortly.”

When Magnus slipped out of the room and the door had closed behind him, Alec looked back and saw the empathy radiating from the woman’s face. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Alec,” Catarina began, tentatively. “Sometimes, when people go through a traumatic experience, it takes time for the mind to recover from it. It can be a difficult process, and there’s no set time limit for how long it can take for this recovery to happen-”

“Stop,” Alec interrupted, eyes hardening with barely concealed anger. “I’m not as weak as you and Magnus seem to think I am. I don’t need time for my mind to recover,” he sneered. “I need my injuries to get better and then I can get back to normal. I’m fine.”

Catarina rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re fine,” she mocked. “it’s not like you just got physically and magically assaulted right? Believe it or not, Shadowhunter, I do actually know what I’m talking about and you have PTSD. There’s nothing shameful about it and there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, despite whatever backwards teaching you’ve been taught at Alicante. Post-traumatic stress disorder is what happens after you’ve been through something traumatic, and from what Magnus described it sounded like you went through a pretty traumatic time today. Don’t brush your mental health under the rug because believe me when I tell you that it’ll come back to bite you in the ass. Is that clear?”

Her voice left no room for arguments, but Alec still refused to accept it.

“You’re wrong. I’m already fine, I just need my injuries to get better. I don’t have any PTSD or whatever the hell else you think’s going on.”

She shot him a level look, before shooting out green healing magic in his direction.

The effect was instantaneous.

Alec jerked back so quickly that he toppled off of the stool, simultaneously throwing his arms up to protect his face from the imminent attack. His back collided painfully with the wooden floor, and all his breath left him as he wound up gasping desperately.

“Alec!” he heard someone call. “Alec, the magic’s gone!” He formed a small gap between his arms so he could see that whoever was talking was telling the truth- the magic was gone. His muscles relaxed, and he dropped the defensive stance in favour of folding in on himself and taking deep, shuddering breaths.

When he could finally breathe normally again, the Nephilim untangled his limbs and rose to his feet on shaky legs. Catarina was looking at him with a shattered expression, her eyes were wide and glimmering with tears, her hands held up in surrender.

“Oh, Lilith,” she murmured. “I am so, so sorry Alec. I just wanted to show that you didn’t feel comfortable around magic, I didn’t mean to . . .” she trailed off.

“It’s fine,” he said, gruffly, walking towards the ensuite. “Forget it ever happened.”

He had just reached the door to it when she finally spoke again, and he paused to listen to what she had to say.

“I can’t just forget that, Alec, I’m sorry but I can’t. Magnus would never forgive me if I left you like this, and I wouldn’t forgive myself. We’ll have sessions together twice a week, and hopefully that will help.”

“What, you’re going to throw more magic at me to prove how weak I am?” he spat, ignoring the hurt look that briefly flashed across Catarina’s face. “Is that your plan? because it was oh-so-helpful this time!”

The blue lady collected her briefcase and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off of the skirt of her skirt. She strode towards the door and didn’t stop to look over her shoulder at him until she had reached it. Determination was etched into every line of her face.

“I’ll see you in a few days for our first session, Alec.”

She left before he could argue with her about it. Rage bubbled up inside him and he smashed a fist into the wall in front of him, cursing when the pain reverberated up his arm. He slammed the ensuite door behind him as he entered the small room, ripping his clothes off and throwing them onto the floor. Jerking the shower handle on, he turned the temperature to scalding hot and climbed into the tub, sitting under the burning water -cautious not to get the stitches on his face wet- and curling up into a sobbing, furious ball of emotion.

*** ***

When he turned the shower off, his skin was red and sore, but the privacy he’d had to release the tears made him feel better. Leaving the ensuite in just his towel, he found a pile of clean clothes on the end of the bed. He looked round to find Magnus, but the warlock was nowhere to be found, so he quickly dropped the towel and got changed where he stood. The clothes that either Magnus or Catarina had conjured fit perfectly, and the Nephilim was now dressed in comfy black sweatpants and a loose khaki tee that had been easy to pull over his head and neck. Brand-new combat boots were sitting by the door, and he pulled them on, smiling to himself when he realised they were the same design as the boots from Alicante and fit him perfectly.

Not wanting to leave the room and risk running into Asmodeus, Alec eyed the books on the shelves. He walked over to them and read a few of the spines, before heading to the mirror instead. He sat cross legged and thought of his siblings, as Magnus had instructed him to do the first time they used it. He clenched his eyes shut against the purple magic dancing across the surface, and didn’t reopen them until he was certain that the mirror was back to normal.

Jace and Izzy’s faces appeared, and Alec took a second to adjust to how exhausted Jace looked: dark crescents shadowed his eyes, hair spiking at odd angles from how often he had been running his hand through it, and the rigidity in his shoulder that eased fractionally upon seeing his brother.

“Alec,” Jace choked, tears glistening in his bi-coloured eyes. “Parabatai, what happened?”

Both men yearned to physically comfort each other, but instead opted to hold a hand against the glass, as close to touching as they could get.

“It’s alright, Jace,” Alec soothed. “I’m safe now.”

Izzy’s eyes were dark with anguish as she took in the severity of the wounds on his face and neck. They widened when they realised that the neck wounds were violent-looking hickies.

“If Magnus did this to you,” his little sister began, her voice cold and unforgiving. “By the Angel, I will kill him for it.”

“Iz, no!” The oldest Lightwood hurried to correct. “That’s not what happened. Magnus didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Who did this to you then, big brother?” Izzy asked, voice pained.

“Asmodeus,” Alec whispered, avoiding eye contact with his siblings.

“I’ll kill him,” Jace snarled, an echo of Izzy’s earlier threat. “He hurt you and I will murder him for it, consequences be damned.”

The older man sighed, “Jace . . . I know you’re angry, but killing the King -which would be impossible to do anyway- won’t achieve anything.”

“It will achieve him being six feet under like he deserves. It will achieve him never being able to lay a hand on you again,” Izzy growled protectively.

“I appreciate your loyalty, guys, really, but it’s fine. Magnus is looking out for me.”

“And where was he this time? Was he looking out for you as Asmodeus sliced your face up and bit half the skin off your neck?” the blonde challenged, and Alec flinched at the crude reminder. Remorse instantly flooded the bond as Jace’s eyes widened with realisation.

“Oh Raziel,” Jace whispered. “I’m so sorry, brother. I didn’t-“

“Forget it,” Alec interrupted, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Speaking of Magnus, where is he?” Izzy asked.

“Out somewhere. A nurse told him to take a walk so she could talk to me about something.”

“Anything important?” she asked.

“She wants me to do therapy for PTSD,” he answered, avoiding eye contact with both of his siblings for fear of the pity he was certain he’d see there.

“Are you going to do it? I think it might be good for you,” Jace said, without judgement. “I can feel the fear and anxiety in the bond, it might be handy for someone to help you work through it.”

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems a bit . . . pathetic to need help for something in your head.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help, brother. Besides- if you had a physical injury you’d get help, why would an injury in your mind be any different?” Jace challenged.

The older man hummed in response, “good point.”

A knock at the door drew the attention of all three Lightwood children, glancing over just in time to see Magnus enter the chamber with a tired expression on his face. The Prince looked up to see Alec talking to his siblings, and forced a tight smile onto his face.

“I’ll catch you later, guys,” Alec said.

Jace and Izzy were both watching Magnus closely through the mirror, their eyes sharp and calculating as the Prince made his way over to Alec and rested a tired hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

The Nephilim‘s gaze ran from the hand on his shoulder and up to the warlock’s face, and he placed his own weapons-calloused hand on the Princes wrist, brushing the skin with his thumb. An honest, loving smile bloomed across both men’s lips, and Jace cleared his throat as a reminder of their presence.

“Yeah, we’ll talk to you soon, parabatai. Oh, and Magnus?” Jace asked, only continuing when the warlock looked at him in question. “You ever let Asmodeus hurt my brother again and I won’t hesitate to run my blade through your heart. Am I clear?”

“Jace!” Alec gasped, as Izzy elbowed the blonde in the ribs with an exasperated look on her face. “I already told you-“

Magnus waved off whatever Alec was going to say in his defence.

“I can’t apologise enough for allowing what my father did, but I can promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it from happening again. Asmodeus is a sly man, and yes I know that Alexander’s injuries are the only ones that are visible but he was not the only one that was hurt today. Threaten me like that again, blondie, and I’ll have this mirror destroyed, am I clear?” Magnus warned.

There was silence as Jace prepared a rare apology, taking a breath and squaring his shoulders.

“You’re right,” Jace said, gruffly. “That was out of order of me, especially as you’re our Prince. It’s just . . . I hate being so useless when I can feel what he’s going through. I can feel all this pain but I don’t know he’s okay until he has a chance to talk to us through this fucking thing, and I’m grateful we have the mirror, obviously, because I thought we’d never see or hear from him after you took him, but I just, I want-“ Jace broke off with a choked noise and took a second to collect his thoughts before speaking again. “I just want Alec to come home and be safe. Out of our whole family, Alec is the person that least deserved this. It’s killing me to be apart from him.”

Izzy was nodding silently in agreement, and pulled Jace into a tight hug when a tear slipped down his cheek. Yearning filled the bond with such high intensity that Alec felt like he’d drown in it: the pair both wanted Alec to be on the other side of the mirror, wanted him to be with his siblings again.

“I’m sorry,” Alec whispered, voice cracking with emotion. Jace and Izzy broke apart, looking at Alec in confusion. “You can break the bond, Jace, if you want. I won’t stop you, and that way you wouldn’t have to go through what I’m feeling. It’ll hurt, but it will be worth it if you can move on and stop worrying about me.”

Magnus squeezed his shoulder, and then sat on the floor beside the Nephilim, wrapping his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Alec turned his head from the mirror and burrowed his face into the warlock’s silk shirt, body heaving as he released the sobs he’d been holding back.

“Brother, no,” Jace said forcefully, and Alec turned from Magnus’ chest back to meet the mismatched eyes in the mirror. Jace saw the vulnerability glistening there, and vowed to fix his parabatai’s pain. “That’s the last thing I would ever want to do, you hear me? ‘Entreat me not to leave thee’ was what we promised each other, and we’re sticking together, okay? I would rather feel pain from the bond than nothing at all because you’re part of me, Alec, and we knew when we first realised that we’re better together than apart that it wouldn’t always be easy. This is just one of those times where it’s a little difficult, but we’ll work it out- we always do. Don’t think for one second that there’s ever a time where I wouldn’t want to be bonded with you because in every situation we live through, I’m so grateful that I have you in my life,” he paused, feeling the strength and pride overruling the pain that had been simmering in the bond. “Plus, you’re the only person in the world that can get me to say so many words all in one go,” the blonde finished, with a grin that mirrored the expression Alec was wearing.

Magnus looked at the oldest Lightwood who was leaning his back against the warlock’s chest, and smiled to himself at the love radiating from all three siblings like a beacon. He grasped Alec’s hand and twined their fingers together, and the Nephilim aimed a grateful smile towards the older man.

“We love you, big brother,” Izzy said. “And nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you both too, so much. I’ll speak to you soon.”

Jace nodded, “Catch ya later, parabatai. And I’m sorry again, Magnus, for what I said earlier.”

“I’m just glad Alexander has people looking out for him, and apology accepted,” the Prince replied.

The mirror flashed purple and Alec’s position against Magnus’ chest was the only reason he didn’t flinch back. The warlock separated their hands and stood,

falling into the padded seat of his armchair with a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asked, sitting in the armchair opposite.

Magnus waved a hand, “it’s under control.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question, Mags.”

“I spoke to my father whilst you were here with Catarina. I’d hoped he’d Portalled far away after what happened in the Hall, but he’d only returned to his chamber.” He didn’t elaborate any further.

“And then what happened?”

“I told him that you were mine, and that if he hurt you again there would be Hell to pay. He laughed, but after a brief conversation, I managed to get him to sign a blood oath. If he ever hurts you again, he forfeits his title as King and will willingly admit himself to the Spiral Labyrinth.”

“By the Angel,” Alec breathed. “How on earth did you get him to agree to those terms? Why would he sign the blood oath?”

Magnus let out a tired huff, slouching in his armchair. Exhaustion was etched into every line of his immortal face, and his mouth was pulled down into a small frown.

“Let’s just say I have some interesting knowledge about what really happened the night the queen died. Edomia worshipped my mother, and they wouldn’t be at all pleased to find out their villainous king played a hand in her death. He would never be safe if they found out- the warlocks of the city wouldn’t rest until his head was on a stake for staging her suicide, and Asmodeus knows it. That’s why he agreed to sign the blood oath.”

“Thank you,” Alec said, voice full of sincerity as he rose from his chair and kneeled in front of Magnus. He rested one hand lightly on the Prince’s knee and took one of the warlock’s hands in his, squeezing it lightly. He pressed gentle kisses over Magnus’ knuckles to offer comfort before asking, “Do you want to talk about what happened with your mother? You don’t have to, but I’m here for you if you want to.”

The Nephilim’s eyes were so full of patience and understanding that the warlock felt his heart sing. How had he gotten so lucky to have this wonderful man in his life?

“I love you.” Magnus found himself saying, the words falling from his lips like stars in the night sky- elegant and awe-inspiring. That beautiful blush crept back up the younger man’s neck as his eyes lit up from within, a smile blossoming across his lips.

“I love you too,” Alec replied, those four words brimming with all of the hope and passion he had thought he’d lost when he had realised his sexuality didn’t align with what was typical of a male Shadowhunter.

Alec stood and pulled Magnus up with him by their hands, both of them standing in the glowing golden light flooding in from the open window as the Nephilim released a laugh that was full of relief, and he found it echoed by Magnus. Simultaneously, they reached for one another, pulling their bodies flush against each other and closing their eyes to the bliss that threatened to overwhelm them. Alec leaned in, eyes still closed, knowing that Magnus would be mirroring the movement. Sure enough, their lips met, and unlike their first hungry kiss, this was soft and sweet and bubbled with identical unspoken thoughts and feelings. A small moan left the Nephilim’s mouth as the kiss deepened and he began to manoeuvre the pair over to the bed. Magnus realised where their desired destination was, and they desperately began tugging off shoes and clothes in their haste. Their kiss broke off and resumed intermittently, lips colliding with pure need before one would lean to undo a belt buckle or unbutton a shirt and the other would try and help- try and do anything if it meant they could bare their bodies to one another faster. When they were both naked and breathing hard, Alec found that he didn’t feel embarrassed, and the appreciative looks Magnus kept shooting his way only made him feel even better about himself. The warlock was just as beautiful- flawless and unblemished and a golden colour that Alec immediately correlated with sunlight.

They crawled on top of the bed in a tangle of limbs, and Magnus gently placed both hands against Alec’s chest to get him to pause.

“You’re sure about this?” The warlock asked.

Alec nodded without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Do you want to do this?”

“Of course I do,” Magnus grinned. “You promise that this is what you want, and not just something you feel you have to do to keep me happy? I know blondie said it’s your first time, so if you want to wait then that is absolutely fine.”

Alec groaned. “Can we not mention Jace when I’m about to finally have sex? And I want my first time to be with you, and I promise that this is what I want. I never, ever thought I’d get to have this moment-  not being a Shadowhunter that likes guys.”

“Good things come to good people, and you are one of the best, Alexander. We’ll go slowly, and if you want to stop at any point, just tell me and I’ll stop. That goes for both of us, okay?”

“Yep,” Alec said, leaning in and resuming their kiss. Magnus pulled them together, and Alec instantly forgot about everything except how beautiful this feeling was and how perfectly their bodies fit together.

  
Alec wondered how people could try and deny this moment to people like he and Magnus, when even the term ‘making love’ wasn’t strong enough to describe the heavenly, Angel-given act of communion he was finally, finally getting to experience with the man he loved


	7. Horizons That Are Out Of Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the malec sneak peek gave me LIFE so here’s chapter 7 a little earlier than i thought it would be!
> 
> trigger warnings are in the end notes to avoid spoilers <3

When Alec and Magnus woke, it was in a state of total bliss. Alec felt complete in a way that he never had before yesterday afternoon, and smiled to himself at the pure  _ happiness _ he felt. He looked to the left and saw his beautiful lover laying in the morning light, the sun dancing across his smooth golden skin in a gentle caress as the warlock turned his head to meet Alec’s gaze, and both their smiles widened. 

“Morning,” Magnus whispered, cautious of disturbing the bubble of peace they had created. 

“Good morning,” Alec murmured in response, tracing lazy circles over the silk of the duvet cover with his finger.

“Hungry?” the Prince asked, and Alec nodded. “Well, I suppose we  _ did _ work up quite an appetite,” he chuckled, and the Nephilim blushed but hummed in agreement.

“Want me to get us something from the kitchens?” Alec suggested, knowing that questions would be asked if Magnus went down there.

“No no, it’s fine,” the warlock said, before pausing and looking at Alec carefully. “How would you feel about me conjuring us something for breakfast?” 

Something uncomfortable crawled along the Nephilim’s skin at the notion, and he struggled to come up with an excuse. Magnus seemed to notice the younger man’s unease, and rushed to comfort him.

“We don’t have to, it was just a suggestion,” the Prince blurted. “Ragnor can pick it up for all three of us when he gets here in a moment.”

“Ragnor’s going to be here soon? I need to get changed!” 

Magnus laughed kindly at Alec’s panic.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, darling. Believe me when I tell you that my dearest Cabbage has walked in on me in rather more . . .  _ compromising _ positions.”

An inelegant snort escaped the Nephilim at the thought, but he stilled when he considered the deeper insinuation of the Prince’s comment. He had grown up hearing about the warlock’s relationships and rumours of who he was having sex with, but he suddenly wondered the validity and magnitude of those rumours. 

“Have there been a lot?” Alec asked, apprehensively, before clarifying. “Of other . . . lovers, I mean? 

Magnus shifted uncomfortably, and the Nephilim was about to apologise for prying when the older man said, “seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” Alec echoed, with a small smile. He picked up on the lack of eye contact from Magnus, however, and the smile dropped from his face instantly.

“Seventeen . . . hundred?” He ventured. Magnus winced and looked away.

“Seventeen  _ thousand _ ?” He blurted, a horrified look on his face. The warlock remained silent, but Alec detected the unspoken apology. He began panicking nonetheless.

“How am I  _ ever _ going to compare to seventeen thousand other people before me?”

“Alexander,” Magnus started, patiently. “I don’t compare anyone, and doesn’t it say more that out of seventeen thousand and one lovers, you’re the one that’s still here?”

“It’s only been just over a week! What if in a fortnight you realise that I’m nothing like the others?” The Nephilim pointed out, still flapping his arms uselessly at his sides in his fluster.

“It wouldn’t matter at all. It’s not a competition between the past and the present. The people I’ve been with in the past are all in the past for a reason, but I want to focus on the here and now. With  _ you _ .” His cat-eyes were sharp, and focussed intently on Alec, trying to convey the magnitude of his love for the younger man.

“I know that, but I just- you’re my first  _ everything _ and I knew you’d been with others but that’s a pretty daunting number, Mags.”

The Prince flushed a shamed red, and Alec stroked a hand along the other man’s jawline. Magnus closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Please don’t be ashamed,” the Lightwood murmured. “The past makes you who you are, and I love you- seventeen thousand previous lovers and all. I wouldn’t change anything about you for the whole world.”

Alec felt Magnus’ lips rise up into a smile against his hand, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before bringing his hand away. 

At that moment, the door opened and Ragnor strolled in, looking bored. His eyes widened when he saw the two men laying side by side in bed, bare on the chest and presumably bare everywhere else, too. He snorted, and then hid his laugh behind a very loud and obviously fake coughing fit. The cough sounded suspiciously akin to the words ‘knew it’, but nobody mentioned it, despite the fond scowl on the Prince’s face.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’d end up falling for him! Didn’t I tell you that this would happen!” The green man exclaimed.

“Ragnor,” Magnus sighed. “I admit that you were right this time. I’d also like to remind you that this is supposed to have been happening regularly for over a week, as Alec is a body slave, so don’t go making a big deal about it the other staff, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Ragnor replied. Then he winked at Alec and said “I’m proud of you, Lightwood. For your first time, the Prince of Edomia’s not too bad, huh?”

Alec choked and felt his face flame red, but Magnus just laughed.

“Don’t tease him like that, my dearest Cabbage,” Magnus said with a chuckle. “But what would  _ actually _ be a productive use of your time would be for you to go to the kitchens and collect whatever Simon’s prepared for us.”

“What shall I tell them when they ask after Alec?” 

“Basically just the truth- he’s recovering from a strenuous evening with me,” the Prince smirked, ignoring the Nephilim’s embarrassed red cheeks deepening in colour.

“Y-you can’t tell Simon that!” Alec spluttered. “He’ll be worried out of his mind!”

Magnus frowned at the younger man’s words, remembering their past conversation where Simon had told Alec that he’d look out for him after Magnus used him for sexual duties. It may be fun for the Prince to mess with the chef, but even he admitted that this would be taking it a step too far.

“Hmm, good point,” the warlock mused. 

“I’ll just go and get the food, it’s really no problem,” Alec said. 

“Remind me again of why you don’t just magic us breakfast? Simon can save it for tomorrow morning,” Ragnor pointed out. Magnus’ eyes snapped up to meet Alec’s, worriedly, but the Nephilim avoided his gaze, toying uneasily with his fingers.

“I used magic last night,” the Prince lied easily. Ragnor raised an eyebrow in question. “There were certain products I needed to conjure,” he said, before grinning wickedly and speaking in a nonplussed tone. “Lube, towels, fresh sheets-“

“Stop!” the green man cried, slapping his hands over his ears. “I’ll get breakfast if you promise never to give me those sort of details ever again!”

“Deal,” Magnus smirked. He waved his hands in a ‘shoo’ motion and said “Run along now Cabbage, breakfast won’t collect itself.”

Ragnor grumbled to himself but hastily exited the room. Magnus punched the air in victory and Alec chuckled.

“That was quick thinking,” the Nephilim conceded. “I’m sorry that you have to cover for me just because I’m too much of a coward to let you magic stuff for us.”

“Don’t apologise, my darling,” Magnus comforted. “It’s only natural after the sort of experience you had, and it’s not even been a whole day since it happened- don’t be so hard on yourself. We can work through it together.”

Alec smiled softly. “That sounds like it could work. Should we get changed before Ragnor gets back?”

“Well, we warlocks aren’t that bothered about the bare body, and oh  _ Lilith _ your body is impeccable, but we can both get changed if it will appease your sense of dignity.”

“Thank you,” Alec said sincerely, as Magnus pulled the cover off of his toned body and stood in the morning light. Taking in the sight of that golden skin reminded the Nephilim of the previous night, and he shivered. Alec also got out of bed, and walked over to the wardrobe where Magnus had conjured him a multitude of outfits on his second day at the castle. He picked out a generic ‘Alec outfit’ from the vast selection of other ‘Alec outfits’ in the wardrobe, and dressed quickly. When he was finished he started picking up the items of clothing that scattered the floor in a trail from the armchairs to the beds, that had been thrown to the ground in their haste to undress. He smiled as he rubbed the silk of Magnus’ shirt from yesterday between his fingers, depositing the bundle of clothes into the hamper in the ensuite.

Just as he finally sank into the armchair facing Magnus, the Prince’s aid returned with their breakfast. He placed it on the coffee table and lifted the lid, the tantalising waft of freshly baked pastries rose and the three men picked up a pain au raisin each.

*** ***

Breakfast had passed in a haze of delicious foods and engaging conversation, and Alec sighed contentedly when he was finished.

“I have a meeting in an hour, would you be able to accompany me, Ragnor?” Magnus asked the green man. “My father said that it’s something about discussing our negotiations with the Seelie queen, and I’d like you there to keep notes on what is being said.”

“Of course,” Ragnor replied, collecting the plates from breakfast and piling them back onto the main tray. “I can meet you at the Hall on the hour, if that’s suitable for you.”

“That would be perfect,” Magnus said, gratefully. “Thank you.”

Ragnor nodded and then left with the tray, on route to return it to the kitchens. 

Magnus turned to face Alec. “Do you want me to ask Clary to come and keep you company while I’m at the meeting?” He asked, and Alec scowled.

“I don’t need babysitting, Mags, I’m a trained Nephilim. Believe it or not, I am actually capable of occupying myself for an hour or so.”

The Prince chuckled, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I expect you’ll appreciate an hour or so by yourself, I don’t think you’ve been left alone since you got here.”

“I’ve always been with you though, and I appreciate that just as much. I expect I’ll just talk to Izzy and Jace while you’re gone, if they’re free to talk.”

Right on cue, the mirror began to pulse purple, and Alec flinched fractionally but made his way over to it with Magnus right on his tail. The two men sat side by side as the purple receded and faded into the image of his siblings, both grinning at the sight of the smiling couple.

“Well, it seems that you two had a good night last night,” Jace smirked at the pair, in place of a greeting. Izzy laughed, and swatted the blonde’s shoulder.

“We’re happy for you, big brother,” she beamed, before turning to the warlock. “And you too, Magnus- although we hope you didn’t pressure him into anything.”

Alec glanced at Magnus to gauge his reaction, but the Prince just offered his little sister a sincere smile. “I did ask him first, and I made sure that he knew that there were no expectations. We both wanted to,” he answered, and Alec nodded in agreement.

“He was amazing, Iz,” the oldest Lightwood reassured her, looking confused when Isabelle let out a snort.

“I don’t want to know what your boyfriend’s performance was like, big brother,” she laughed, and Alec blushed.

“I didn’t mean it like  _ that _ !” he exclaimed, which only caused her to laugh harder. “I meant he was amazing about making sure I was happy with everything.”

“She knows, Alec, she’s just teasing,” Jace explained. “Jokes aside, the bond felt better than it had in a long time.”

Magnus’ eyes widened in horrific realisation. “You mean you could feel . . . ?” the warlock trailed off in an uncharacteristic loss of words. 

Alec placed a calming hand on the older man’s shoulder, but couldn’t stop the lighthearted grin he felt pulling at his lips. “Raziel,  _ no _ . I love my parabatai but you really think we’d still be bonded if I had to feel him through the bond every time he had sex? You have no idea how long this guy spends in bed  _ not sleeping _ \- I’d be driven mad,” he shot an apologetic look at Jace, who was just standing with his arms crossed and a curious look on his face as his focus flickered between the couple’s interaction. “No offence, brother.”

Jace waved the apology off. “I take it as a compliment- it means my charms are even more irresistible than I first thought, and that was pretty difficult to beat.”

Alec and Izzy rolled their eyes, used to Jace’s egotistical side, and Magnus just snorted.

“We’re really happy for you, Alec,” Izzy said, sincerely. “It’s a shitty situation but at least it brought you to Magnus.”

The oldest Lightwood smiled at her, “Thank you, Iz.”

“I’m glad you found him,” Jace said. “I can tell that you’re happier, and I think it might have finally got that stele out your ass.”

“Only to be replaced by something else,” Magnus offered with a grin, as Alec spluttered and even Izzy and Jace seemed to choke.

“ _ Magnus _ !” Alec whined. “That’s the second time today that you’ve gone into way more detail than was necessary!”

The Prince shrugged. “Sometimes certain things need to be said in order to get certain people to shut up,” he answered unapologetically, and with a pointed glance in Jace’s direction.

Izzy laughed. “Oh, I like him!” she cooed, and Magnus blew her a playful kiss. Jace elbowed her, muttering “Traitor,” under his breath.

The Prince turned to Alec. “I best be off to that meeting, but I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, pressing a quick goodbye kiss to his lover’s lips before getting to his feet.

“I’ll see you when you get back, we can get lunch together.”

“It’s a date,” the warlock confirmed with a smile.

“See ya later, Magnus,” Izzy said with a little wave. Jace echoed the sentiment but kept his hands purposely by his sides, still grumbling about how his siblings were turncoats.

The Prince left their chamber, and Alec spent the best part of half an hour catching up with what had been happening at the Alicante academy and news on Izzy’s promotion to Weapon’s Master. 

When the mirror faded back to clear after they had said their goodbyes, Alec began to occupy himself by continuing  _ Aku Cinta Kamu _ \- the book he had started about the two men chasing their forbidden love. He had just finished a chapter about them sharing drinks after an eventful attempt at saving a werewolf during his transition to Alpha when the chamber door opened. 

A man that Alec didn’t recognise stood in the doorway, leering at him. The man was older than Alec, with light brown skin and thick black eyebrows.

“What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, Mr Lightwood,” the man said, with a sharp accent that Alec believed to be British. “I’ve heard a lot about Magnus’ new body slave.”

“I can’t say the same about you,” Alec retorted. Something about this person put the Nephilim on the defensive. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“My, my. You seem to have this all backwards-  _ I _ am the one that will be asking the questions, not you.”

The Lightwood put his book on the coffee table and crossed his arms.

“I’m not even going to get the honour of knowing your name?” He asked, sarcastically.

“Victor Aldertree,” the man said smugly, despite the name not meaning anything to Alec. “The King’s right hand.”

The Nephilim’s heart started beating faster as panic set in, but he clenched his jaw and vowed not to let it show.

“What business do you have with coming to Magnus’ chamber?” He asked, voice steady and not betraying any of the anxiety he felt.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Aldertree snapped. “All I am obliged to tell you is that you will be coming with me for the next few hours.”

The older man moved to grab Alec by the upper arm, but the Nephilim jerked his arm away before they made contact.

“And I am obligated to tell you to  _ fuck off _ ,” Alec growled, spreading his feet apart and taking on his attack position. 

He had expected Victor to face him head-to-head, so was wholly unprepared for the man to grin widely, and jab a taser into his ribs. 

Alec grunted as he fell to the floor, electricity igniting every cell in his body, limbs convulsing sporadically, as everything tunnelled and dimmed and all he could think of were Magnus and Izzy and Jace.

He felt a pair of hands grab him by the ankles and the heavy slide of his shirt against the wooden floor, before his vision went dark, and unconsciousness welcomed him into its black embrace.

*** ***

When he blearily blinked his eyes open, he was immediately comforted by the somewhat blurry cat-eyes peering back at him. His mind filled with images of Magnus, and his vision cleared. The cat-eyes narrowed, and Alec felt fear tighten in his stomach. It wasn’t Magnus looking back at him, it was Asmodeus, bending down to face-height with the Nephilim who had been restrained in a chair. Guilt flooded him for being able to confuse these devious and deceiving pupils with the light, hopeful eyes of his lover.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to join the party,” the King leered, and Alec noted that Aldertree was standing stock still behind the patriarch. 

”Shit hosting skills,” Alec slurred, facial muscles refusing to properly coordinate after being tased. His arms felt too tight, and on trying to separate them, realised they were bound by thick rope behind the back of the chair. His Alicante training kicked in, and he scanned his surroundings: the room had brick walls and stone floors that looked merciless, it was lit by two bare bulbs hanging at either end of the ceiling. The only door was in front of him, closely guarded by Aldertree, and there were three windows along the wall to his left that looked to be a size that he could squeeze through. They had no clasps or handles to open them, so he deduced that he would need to smash them to escape. 

The King grinned, his sharp white teeth on show as his lip curled back. 

“Where’s Magnus?” He asked, trying not to betray his anxiety.

“At a meeting in the Hall. We have arranged a distraction for him, so I have more time to spend with  _ you _ .”

“You hurt him and I’ll kill you,” Alec warned, voice low and deadly. “By the Angel, I’ll kill you.”

Asmodeus chuckled and looked behind him to Aldertree, who quickly scurried forwards. The man pulled a penknife from his pocket, flicking the blade up lazily.

“Do you know why you’re here, Mr Lightwood?” Victor asked him. When Alec remained silent, he continued. “Magnus recently threatened our King, and blackmailed him into signing an oath whereby the King could not harm you in any way.” He unfolded a piece of paper from he had been holding, and the spot of blood in the bottom right corner confirmed that this was a copy of the blood oath. “Magnus quite clearly stated what was forbidden, and it was clear then that his old age had made him stupid, for he left a few loopholes open. Here’s what Magnus wrote on the oath:  _ I, King Asmodeus Bane, hereby vow not to cause, _

_ or aid any physical or magical harm to Alexander Lightwood, no matter how negligible or severe. I, Asmodeus Bane, acknowledge that to do so would violate this contract, and I vow to revoke my title as King of Edomia and willingly enter and remain in the Spiral Labyrinth until my death, should this violation occur. _ ”

“But you see, Alexander,” Asmodeus said, taking over from his aid. He walked behind Alec, and his hands gripped the back of the chair. “There were two small words that were forgotten in this oath,” the King rotated the chair so Alec was facing the back of the room instead of the front, the chair legs screeching their unease against the stone floor.

“Emotional pain,” the King hissed triumphantly.

Alec looked at the back wall, took in what it was that he was seeing, and the Nephilim’s whole world stopped and narrowed until his focus was purely on the person in front of him. 

_ Jace _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings:  
> fairly brief mention of violence/tasing  
> i’ll try not to leave you on the cliffhanger too long <3  
> see you soon with the penultimate chapter! love and hugs, teenwolf24 xx


	8. It’s Easier To Run Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did so well at the people’s choice awards- especially Harry announcing that he’s gonna be a dad AND winning 3 awards!!
> 
> i’m sorry about how rushed Asmodeus’ character development is but i’m stressed with school and i wanted to do SOMETHING 
> 
> trigger warnings in the end notes <3

From two metal shackles on the wall, his parabatai hung with his feet off the ground, head hanging and eyes closed. 

Fear coiled tightly in the Nephilim’s stomach as the thought  _ he’s dead _ flashed through his mind- the fear was eased only fractionally when he subconsciously knew that he would know if his parabatai was dead. He watched carefully and saw the shallow rise and fall of his chest to confirm this. Blood was splattered on the ground below the blonde’s feet, and Alec saw the split lip he had and the other cuts and bruising around his face.

“ _ Jace _ ,” Alec choked. “Jace, wake up.”

His parabatai groaned in pain, but his eyes stayed shut and his body remained unmoving. 

How hadn’t he felt the pain his brother was in through the bond? How had they gotten to his siblings so quickly after he’d been talking to them? 

“Where’s my sister?” the Nephilim asked, unable to mask the panic in his voice.

“Safe,” the King said, and for some unfathomable reason, Alec believed him. If the King had taken his sister, he had no reason to lie about it. Something eased in his chest at knowing that at least Izzy was safe. “We had no use for her. We only needed your brother. You really think we didn’t know about your contact with them? You really think I haven’t been having them watched since the day you were taken to the palace? The moment you ended communication I had your brother dragged to this castle so we could help you understand a few things.”

“Let him go,” Alec growled, but even to his own ears the words lacked strength.

“Do you want to know the beauty of this situation, Alexander?” The sound of his full name in the King’s mouth was abhorrent, and a stark juxtaposition to the way Magnus said it. At Alec’s lack of response, Asmodeus continued. “Not only am I  _ not _ being the one to cause you pain- or even aid, as I left everything up to Aldertree- I also exhausted a large amount of magical strength so I could numb your bond as I let Aldertree have some fun with your brother. I  _ protected _ you.”

“If you want me to say thank you you’re going to be very disappointed.”

Asmodeus shrugged. “I expected nothing less. But I’ve grown rather tired of suppressing your bond.” He twirled a hand, and pain instantly laced the bond, heavy as lead. Alec winced, but found solace in the fact that he was more aware of his brother, and could feel that he was alive. “Even me restoring the bond isn’t breaking the contract, because the pain isn’t physical for you, Alexander- it’s only physical for your brother- nor is it magically produced. _ That _ is the beauty of this situation.”

“Magnus will tell everyone about you murdering the Queen and staging it as suicide if you don’t stop this right now,” Alec said, hating that he had to invoke his boyfriends’s name to try and protect the parabatai pair. “Edomia will hate you. They’ll want you dead.”

“Oh, but he won’t tell a soul,” the King replied, confidently. “Because I won’t release your brother until I have a blood oath from my son that he will keep what he knows to himself. His mind wards are too strong for me to steal the memory- it is his love for you that is his weakness. He knows that his magic is too inferior to numb the bond, and he wouldn’t risk damaging you by breaking your parabatai bond, not when he has seen the disasterous effects that has on the parabatais afterwards- how they are never quite the same once the bond is purposefully ended. He will also sign a blood oath to ensure that he can never interact with you again- my son will  _ not _ be in a relationship with a filthy Nephilim sex slave.”

_ Shit _ , Alec thought to himself,  _ it’s hard to find any flaws with that plan _ .

“Magnus will kill you. He will kill you for this,” the Nephilim’s said with absolute certainty, thinking of the protectiveness in the Prince’s voice when he spoke of Alec. 

“Alec,” Jace croaked. The oldest Lightwood’s eyes snapped up to meet his brother’s as they fluttered open. 

“ _ Jace _ ,” he said, the name sounding like a prayer. “Jace, I’m so sorry. For all of this.”

“Not your fault,” the blonde murmured. ”Izzy?”

“She okay, she’s safe,” Alec assured, and a relieved sigh escaped his parabatai.

“Isn’t this a touching reunion?” Asmodeus leered, and both parabatai glared at him.

“ _ Shut up _ ,” they said in unision. 

Aldertree appeared in the side of Alec’s vision, as he went to stand next to Jace. The blade of the pocketknife glinted dangerously in the dim lighting of the room.

“We have a few moments before Magnus will join us- feel free to use them as you wish,” the King said to Aldertree, who smirked.

Victor placed the penknife against Jace’s wrist, which was drawn tight against the metal cuffs that restrained him to the wall. The older man looked back to Alec, a challenge clear on his face. The Lightwood struggled in the chair, eyes boring into Aldertree.

“Hurt him and you won’t need to wait for Magnus- I’ll murder you myself,” he threatened. The smirk on Aldertree’s face grew wider, and he nicked the skin above the vulnerable veins in the blonde’s wrist. Jace hissed, and Alec struggled harder; the one thing he hated more than anything else was the pain or hurting of his siblings.

“Don’t touch him!” He snarled.

“Or what?” Victor taunted, stroking the blade over Jace’s skin, poking shallow pinpricks over his arms and legs like crimson freckles before cutting the blonde’s shirt off and throwing it carelessly to the floor. 

“Sure this isn’t just an excuse to get me naked?” Jace mumbled, and Alec felt an exasperated smile pull his lips up at his brother’s antics.

“It’s all he’s wanted from the beginning,” Alec confirmed, and the blonde grinned feebly. 

“ _ Enough _ ,” Aldertree spat. “I don’t think any more of your comments will be required,” he turned to face the King. “Your Highness, would you care to silence the bastard?”

Blood red magic sparked from Asmodeus’ fingertips, and fired towards Jace. An angered look crossed the blonde’s face as the magic flickered around his mouth, before pain replaced it- a grimace pulling at his eyes. A twinge of pain echoed through the bond, and the Nephilim knew it would be worse for his brother. The muscles in Jace’s jaw twitched like he wanted to open his mouth, but no further movement occurred and Alec deduced that Asmodeus had silenced his parabatai. A muscle in his brother’s mouth twitched again, and an incoherent sound of frustration escaped him.

“Stop it- take the spell off him!”

Aldertree wagged his finger in disapproval of the Lightwood, and began carving into Jace’s torso, his body blocking Alec’s view of what was happening. 

Agony tore through the bond, and the eldest Lightwood hunched forward to brace against the pain as it burned through his body like a wildfire. A muffled whimper slipped from his brother’s mouth, and some animalistic urge to protect the blonde possessed him- he pulled against the rope binding him to the chair so hard he felt the skin shred. Blood slickened the rope and Alec tried to wangle them over his wrists, but they remained tight and unyielding. Victor’s arm moved patiently as he twisted and turned the blade as it carved into his parabatai’s chest.

“Leave him alone!” Alec yelled, fuelled by the boiling rage inside of him that was magnified by the pain. “Hurt me instead!”

Victor smirked, but obligingly stepped aside, allowing Alec a clear view of his handiwork. The Nephilim gasped in horror, his eyes wide.

The man had torn deep cuts around the runes on Jace’s skin, boxing or circling around each rune so they looked like some crude, twisted patchwork design. They bled freely, the blood obscuring some of the runes entirely as it ran in rivulets across the black lines and curves. Jace’s face was pale, and the rise and fall of his damaged chest was shallow and uneven. The agony raced through the bond like molten lava, scalding and powerful but enough to leave them both weak and panicked.

The creaking of the door caught Alec’s attention, and he forced his gaze away from his injured brother and craned his neck to see who was entering. 

Magnus strode in flanked by several guards keeping focus on the Prince from around him, his head held high and his clothing still glittering and immaculate, but Alec could see his cat-eyes frantically assessing the room he had entered. His eyes locked with Alec’s and widened with fear when he took in his father and Aldertree standing on either side of the restrained Nephilim. Alec saw the adamas cuffs around the warlock’s wrists, and knew that his magic was being surpressed.

“Alexander,” he said quietly. “I promise you will be alright- he can’t hurt you.”

“Well, my boy, you are quite right- I can’t hurt your precious body slave,” Asmodeus conceded with a wicked glint in his glowing eyes, before stepping away from Alec to give Magnus a clear of view of Jace, hanging limp and bleeding heavily from the wall. “But you said nothing of his parabatai.”

The Prince’s tough resolve slipped when he saw the condition of the blonde’s torso, and took in the naked fear for his brother in Alec’s eyes.

“Father . . . whatever issue you have with me, we can resolve it without needing Jace or Alec to be involved. Just let them go.”

“I will let them go when you agree to let me remove your memory of the night your mother killed herself, and sign a blood oath to never speak to your precious Alec ever again,” Asmodeus challenged.

A strangled noise slipped from Magnus as he pulled at the adamas cuffs in an effort to access his magic, the guards surrounding him quickly taking hold of his arms to abort the movements. “You  _ know _ she didn’t kill herself! You  _ murdered _ her!” He raged, and Alec suppressed a shiver at the malice in his tone- it was so different to his usual kind and gentle mannerism.

The King shrugged, “But Edomia will never know once you forfeit the memory to save your little body slave’s life.”

A resigned look crossed the Prince’s face as he looked worriedly at Alec. “What assurance do I have that you will leave Alec and his family alone if I give you the memory?”

“ _ And _ Magnus,” the Nephilim interjected, looking at Asmodeus. “You have to sign a blood oath that you won’t hurt Magnus either.”

“That’s a rather large demand from the people that are in no position to be demanding things,” the King grinned. “Perhaps you need a reminder, my son, that once again I hold all the cards.” 

Without looking at Aldertree to give him permission -as that could be counted as aiding the imminent harm- Asmodeus moved to stand next to Magnus, jerking his chin round so he was forced to look at Alec as Victor approached him. The man pulled a real knife from a weapons holster round his thigh, the silver blade several inches long with a serrated edge.

Alec stilled when he felt the long blade be pressed against his lower stomach, the sharpest point poised to tear straight in and out the other side. He muffled a groan as pain surged back through the bond. His gaze darted up to Jace, who was struggling where he hung, muscles in his jaw spasming as he tried to speak through the invisible gag. As the movement pulled at his chest, fresh bouts of blood escaped the carved wounds. 

The King rolled his eyes and lazily flicked crimson magic towards the blonde. The gag dissolved and Jace took a deep breath with his mouth open.

“Leave him alone,” he snarled, but Victor just shook his head with mock pity and pushed the blade in a third of the way through his stomach. Alec clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from screaming as he felt it rip skin and tissue and muscle on its journey- a hiss escaped that was accompanied by a muffled whine from Jace as the pain was shared. Blood seeped steadily from around the blade, and Alec tried to rationalise that it was better to have the blade kept in than pulled out, but the pain was blinding and his ability to reason had been compromise. 

“Stop it!” Magnus shouted desperately, his cat-eyes wide and terrified as he looked at Alec’s stomach. “I understand- I understand now. Just make a blood oath to protect Alec and his family- don’t worry about me.”

When Jace picked up on the emotions thrumming through the bond, he spoke on behalf of Alec- who still had his mouth tightly shut against the pained whimper in his throat.

“Magnus, don’t sacrifice yourself for us,” the blonde argued. “You think Alec will ever forgive himself for being the reason that your mother won’t get justice and you’re still open to harm from your father? He’d rather go through this than have you sacrifice your relationship. Don’t make him have to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

The warlock nodded tersely, and anger flashed through Asmodeus, his cat-eyes narrowing on Alec still tied up on the chair.

Calmness washed over the Lightwood as a plan formed in his mind and he tried his hardest to communicate it to Jace. From the confused but trusting look that flickered behind the blonde’s eyes, he didn’t understand what the plan actually was, but he understood that at least there  _ was _ a plan.

The Nephilim had based his plan on three vital points: the King got angry very quickly, he got violent when he felt angry, and if he got violent then he was more likely to hurt Alec and violate the blood oath. It would force Asmodeus to give up his royal title and go to the Spiral Labyrnth for the rest of his immortal life. 

Now all Alec had to do was make the warlock angry. 

“You think Magnus will ever forgive you for this?” Alec asked, with a smirk that he somehow made void of the agony tearing through both his stomach and the parabatai bond. “Your other children all turned on you and so will Magnus eventually. There’s a reason that none of them respect you, Asmodeus- and it’s because you’re a  _ lonely _ ,  _ weak _ ,  _ vindictive _ man whose only concern is his status.” Rage built in the King’s glowing irises, and his fists clenched as crimson sparks exploded from them. There was a thunderous look on his face as he took a step in Alec’s direction. “Why would anyone respect a parent that puts them in this sort of situat-“

A scream tore from his throat- a raw, animalistic cry- as Aldertree jammed the knife hilt-deep into his stomach, and the Lightwood felt the tip of the blade scratch against the back of the chair where it protruded from the back of his stomach. Jace yelled in pain from the bond, thrashing against his restraints in an effort to reach and comfort his brother; Magnus cried out in horror and tried desperately to break his adamas cuffs apart. Pitiful hisses escaped the Nephilim as every breath ground his ripped skin and muscles against the serrated edge of the knife. His eyes glistened with agonised tears and he looked to his brother and saw that Jace’s own eyes looked watery- he hated to be the cause of such pain in his parabatai, and hated even more that he’d need to cause more for his plan to work. 

Alec forced a lazy grin to his face, and made eye contact with Asmodeus, who had taken a few more raging steps towards him- bringing Alec closer to achieving his plan.

The Lightwood nodded his head in Magnus’ direction, who had a look of such guilt and devastation etched across his skin that he almost looked away, and noticed the King take note of his son’s broken expression, too. 

“Is it any wonder why you have no loyal family left? Any wonder why your son would feel more welcome in the arms of a body slave than with his own father?”

“ _ Shut up _ ,” the King growled, as his fists clenched and he took a deep breath to force them back open. Aldertree rotated the knife in his stomach as punishment,his lips curled back menacingly over his white teeth, and the Nephilim bit his bottom lip so tightly to keep from screaming that he tasted bloody iron. Jace muffled a groan, one tear slipping down the blonde’s cheek despite his stubborn attempts to keep them from falling. 

“I’m sorry,” Alec mumbled, but Jace just shook his head- he had faith that his parabatai’s plan would work, no matter the pain that would be endured by both of them in the process. 

“He  _ hates _ you,” Alec snarled, attention back on the King. Magnus was watching his father intently, and saw something vulnerable flicker over the King’s face like a shadow, but the Prince couldn’t deny the truth in Alec’s words; for the lack of a caring father figure, for the murder of his mother, for the pain he had caused his Alexander- he truly  _ did _ hate his father. “Your son hates you, and every citizen of Edomia despises you too.”

“That’s  _ enough _ ,” Aldertree snapped, and yanked the knife out of Alec, who gasped in pain and curled forwards around the wound as warm crimson liquid looked in his lap.

“Alec!” Magnus cried, managing to take one step in the body slave’s direction before the King’s guards pulled him back. “Father, stop this!” 

Asmodeus stood next to Alec, and gestured his hand towards him. “Is it true?” the King demanded, voice like steel. “You hate me?”

“How can I  _ not _ ?” Magnus asked quietly, sounding broken. “Look what you did to mother- look what you’ve done to Alec.”

“Choose,” Asmodeus ordered. “You can stay in the castle as my son or you can renounce your title and live with the Lightwood filth. Choose  _ me _ , Magnus.” 

Magnus’ cat-eyes searched Alec’s face before scanning his father’s. There was no decision to make.

“Alexander,” the warlock said, steady and confident. “I choose Alexander.”

Asmodeus roared in anger and punched Alec square in the jaw. Black spots entered the Nephilim’s vision and the taste of blood increased ten-fold as it exploded through his mouth. 

Alec grinned as blood dribbled down his chin, ignoring the pain, and Jace laughed hoarsely in front of him, realising that his parabatai’s plan had worked. 

The blood oath was broken. 

Asmodeus would pass the title of King to Magnus. He would volunteer himself to the Spiral Labrynth. He would never hurt anyone ever again. 

The King bellowed, punching Alec over and over in his rage, Jace and Magnus both screaming for him to stop as the Nephilim’s neck snapped backwards from the force and blood streamed from his mouth. The blood in the Lightwood’s mouth bubbled as he tried to force words out, but all that was accomplished were incoherent and garbled noises. 

“ _ Take these off _ ,” Magnus demanded of the guards flanking him. “Asmodeus has broken a blood oath and forfeits his title- as your new King I command you to take these off.”

The commanding figure produced the key and uncuffed the adamas. Magnus wasted no time in throwing out orange magic and pausing his Father’s fist in midair. The older warlock grappled with the invisible force for a moment before dropping his arm. His fingertips were black, like the dark stone that forms when lava reaches water, and it sizzled as it spread cell by cell along his fingers. 

“You need to get to the Spiral Labyrinth, father, before this reaches your heart,” Magnus said, and Alec was surprised by the softness in his voice. 

“I know,” Asmodeus responded, before dismissing the guards around them. When the only people left in the room were the parabatai pair, Aldertree, and the father-son duo, he continued. “I want to apologise,” Asmodeus began, and his voice was quiet and thoughtful. “For causing you so much pain, for everything that happened with your mother, for never being there for you when I should have been. You deserved better, Magnus, and I’m sorry that you were stuck with me as your father. I hurt the man you love because I know that when you are left alone after his passing, you will be destroyed, and this was the only way I could think to get you to stay apart. I recognise now that that was the worst move I could have ever made. I love you, as I loved all my children- but you were the only one that stayed loyal right until the end, and I should have never taken that for granted. I’m sorry.” 

Magnus’ eyes were glimmering with tears, and he wiped the tears away as he walked over to his father until they were face-to-face. Both of them looked broken: pain echoing over Magnus’ features and regret echoing over Asmodeus’. Alec felt part of his heart splinter at that look on his lover’s face, and vowed to keep it at bay for eternity if he could. 

“I love you, my son, even if I never show it,” Asmodeus murmured, and Magnus choked on a sob as he drew his father into a tight hug. He had never heard his father say those words to him, not once in all his centuries of life. The warlocks clung tightly to each other, both pairs of cat-eyes clenched shut. 

“I love you too,” Magnus whispered, even as his throat tightened with emotion. When they drew apart, neither warlock looked comforted, but Magnus pushed purple magic into a swirling Portal, and Asmodeus cautiously walked over to it.

“Make me proud, Magnus,” he said quietly, before entering the Portal without glancing back. 

The Portal closed and Magnus immediately whirled round to his lover. He threw a hand out and black magic bound Aldertree’s wrists and ankles tightly. He would deal with that in a moment.

“Alec,” he murmured, kneeling behind the Nephilim to untie the bloodied rope by hand. “Oh, my Alexander.” 

Alec winced as he stood and flexed his wrists, a fresh outpouring of blood released from the stab wound in his stomach as the muscles constricted at the movement, and Magnus glanced at him for permission to use magic to heal it. The Nephilim reluctantly nodded, but looked away when the healing magic warmed the wound and slowly knitted the skin and tissue back together. When the magic dissipated on his stomach, all that was left was a small scar slightly lighter than his own skin that was barely noticeable. He felt his jaw start to mend- felt the bone realigning and solidifying- and when he opened his mouth to speak he knew that Magnus had also stopped the bleeding.

“Thank you,” he breathed, gratefully, as he welcomed the older man into an embrace, and took a few moments to just savour being with the man he loved. Asmodeus could never hurt either of them again.

Alec raised a hand and placed it gently on the back of Magnus’ neck, coaxing the warlock’s head into his chest and circling his arms around his lover protectively when he felt tears falling into the cotton of his ruined shirt. The new King released a shaky breath at the safety and warmth that the caring touch provided. 

“I love you,” both men said in unison, before smiling at their unplanned synchronisation.

A subtle cough sounded from behind them and the pair broke apart to see Jace roll his eyes from where he was still hung against the wall. Blood dropped rhythmically against the stone beneath him.

“Don’t mind me, lovebirds- I’m only bleeding out and chained to a wall,” the blonde deadpanned. Alec cursed himself and hurried to stand in front of his parabatai as Magnus flicked green sparks at the restraints. They snapped open with an audible click and Jace collapsed into Alec’s arms like a deadweight. The Lightwood hooked one arm under his brother’s shoulders and the other under his knees as he held him in his arms- Jace didn’t seem strong enough to stand after the beating before Alec had been brought to the room and the subsequent mistreatment from Aldertree.

The blonde looked exhausted, with heavy, dark crescents hung under his bi-coloured eyes and the markings that Aldertree had carved across his toned torso looked red and raw as they bled freely. 

The warlock didn’t stop to ask for permission before placing his palm against the damaged chest and breathing steadily as green healing magic shimmered over Jace’s skin and closed the wounds until they were little more than thin scars. The bruising and split lip on his face disappeared, as well the small pinpricks that Victor had pressed into the tender skin all over the blonde’s body with his penknife. Jace lay in his his brother’s arms, unconscious but now uninjured.

Magnus looked pale and shaky as he closed his eyes and kept healing, but Alec stepped away with Jace still in his arms, breaking the contact. The new King stumbled forward weakly before catching himself; his magic flickered before dying out. 

“You can’t exert yourself, Mags,” Alec said, gently. “You’ve healed all you can for both of us. We’re safe now- he can’t hurt us anymore.”

Magnus shook his head. “This is all my fault- I have to make up for it.”

“None of this is your fault, okay?  _ None of it _ . Asmodeus hurt Jace and then he let Aldertree hurt me- at no point did you have any control over the situation,” Alec countered.

“But Asmodeus is  _ my _ father- and he did this to you,” Magnus insisted, with tears stinging his cat-eyes. “I can’t apologise enough.”

“You’re not responsible for his actions- my parents are traitors, but I know that that has nothing to do with me or my brother and sister. This is no one’s fault but Asmodeus’, and now he can’t hurt us ever again.”

“Okay,” Magnus said quietly, sounding apprehensive.

“What do you say we get back to your chamber before I drop Jace?” Alec asked with a small smile that was feigned for Magnus’ benefit. The warlock nodded and they left the cold, stone cell together, Alec clutching his parabatai tightly in his arms.

*** ***

Setting Jace down gingerly on the bed, Alec kept part of his attention on Magnus at all times- he knew that the warlock was struggling with guilt and regret more strongly than he was letting on. He tucked the blonde under the duvet carefully, and was just walking over to comfort his lover when a knock at the door halted him. 

Highly aware of what had happened last time he’d opened the door to a stranger, he allowed it to open just a crack, but when he saw it was merely the King’s guards, he opened it fully.

“Your Highness,” one of the men began, totally ignoring Alec, and Magnus turned away from the window to face them tiredly. “There is a matter we require you for, as we were unable to find the King to resolve the issue. Please come with us.”

The Nephilim tensed as Magnus nodded and made his way over, protectiveness bubbling up inside him.

“Where will you be going?” Alec asked.

Another guard looked him up and down in disgust. “There’s no need for us to disclose that information to you,  _ body slave _ .”

The new King’s cat-eyes blazed at the way the man spat ‘body slave’, and he whirled on him instantly.

“You will treat him with respect or I will have you hanged,” Magnus snarled. “Asmodeus has had to enter the Spiral Labyrinth urgently, and will be indisposed for several centuries. I am your new King.”

The guards glanced to the man who had spoken first, before they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

“Your Highness, we pledge to fight for you, always, and to willingly give our lives, should it be required, so that you may continue your glorious reign of our country. Do you accept our vow?” They asked in unison, voices low and serious. 

“Yes, I accept,” the warlock said with a small smile. “Now, what is the matter that we are attending to?”

“A woman tried to breach the castle walls,” he said. “Normally our orders are to execute them, but she was rather insistent that if she would just be able to get into the castle for a few moments in search of someone, then she would return straight after and the King would accept her joining his harem as punishment.” Alec felt his heart start beating more rapidly- surely Isabelle wouldn’t be so stupid as to try and break into the castle? “Would you like her to join a harem for you now that you are King?”

Magnus had clearly been following the same line of thought as the Nephilim, and glanced at Alec, who nodded.

“Take us to her,” the King ordered, and when the head guard looked at Alec skeptically, he continued. “Both of us. Take us both to see her.”

The guard respectfully inclined his head, “of course, your Highness.”

They strode through several corridors and hallways, but Alec’s vision had narrowed to the sole thought that he may be reunited with his sister soon, and he paid the elegant décor no mind.

When they reached the royal gardens and took a sharp left over to the outer wall, the Nephilim felt his heart pound at the thought of any harm having come to Izzy for trying to infiltrate the castle.

This was why, when he caught sight of a woman with long glossy black locks standing with her hands placed defiantly on her hips, he left out a relieved sound. 

Magnus took subtly Alec’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly before taking the lead.

As the guards surrounding her stiffened at the presence of the Royal- albeit not knowing that he was their king yet- Izzy whirled round, fear suddenly lingering in her eyes as she expected to see Asmodeus. With her gaze quickly taking in Magnus and then Alec, her eyes widened and she launched herself at him with a beaming smile. Alec easily caught her midair and spun her round with a chuckle like he had when they were younger. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and he rested his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in the scent of his sister, his family and his home.

Magnus patted him on the shoulder before addressing the guards.

“Asmodeus has revoked his title and placed it upon me. As your new King, I make Isabelle Lightwood exempt from facing any trial or punishment for entering the castle grounds without permission.”

The guards voiced their agreements before kneeling and repeating the same vow that the other guards had pledged earlier. Magnus once again accepted.

“Thank you, your Highness,” Izzy murmured, still hugging her brother tightly.

The warlock waved off her thanks, and replied, “It’s just Magnus, and how about we get back to our chambers so you can see Jace?”

“So he  _ was _ taken here- I knew it!” she said to herself, before looking up to her brother. “Is he ok? Was he hurt?”

“He was hurt,” Alec began quietly. “But he’s safe now, Magnus healed us both.”

The Lightwood pulled out of her brother’s arms and turned to Magnus, gratitude written plainly across her tanned face. “Thank you for everything,” she said, solemnly. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my brothers.”

“Don’t mention it,” Magnus deflected, before gesturing back towards the castle and leading the way, Izzy and Alec just behind him.

*** ***

When they returned to Magnus’ quarters, Izzy immediately gasped when her gaze settled on Jace, running over to him and taking his hand in hers.

“Izzy, he’s ok. He’s safe now,” Alec soothed, and the girl nodded but couldn’t hide the tears brimming in her eyes.

He went and kneeled beside her, rubbing her back in comfort. Magnus clicked his fingers, and the pair of Lightwoods turned to look at him in question. The warlock smiled wryly and held out two colourful cocktails to them, his own on the cabinet behind him.

“I think we’ve earned them,” the King said lightly, and he and Izzy downed their drinks in seconds. Alec sipped at his, pulling a face as he scrunched up his nose. The drink was sweet but strong, and as someone who rarely had cause for alcohol, he wasn’t accustomed to such quick consumption.

A quiet groan drew all of their attentions back to Jace, whose eyes were slowly opening as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position.

“Woah, easy there buddy,” Alec calmed, helping the blonde and arranging the pillows behind him so could sit upright more comfortably.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Magnus grinned, magically clearing his and Izzy’s empty glasses away as he sat on the duvet beside Jace. His hands circled themselves and green healing magic glimmered, ghosting along the blonde’s body as he let out a relieved sigh as the final remnants of pain were cleared.

“Thank you,” Jace breathed, and Magnus simply nodded. 

His eyes widened in realisation as he saw that Izzy was also in the room. “Izzy? What are you doing here? Did Aldertree hurt you? I swear to Raziel I’ll-“

“Jace!” Alec interrupting, cutting his parabatai’s protective threats short. “She was safe- he didn’t lie to us about that. He didn’t hurt her.”

His eyes darted up to meet the Lightwood’s, and it was obvious that he thought Alec was lying to him to keep him from worrying.

“Do you really think I’d lie to you about something like this?” He asked the blonde, who shook his head immediately and apologised. 

After a few moments of the siblings catching up and slowly getting acquainted with Magnus, the warlock got up from where he was perched on the bed beside Alec and Izzy.

“I’m going to need to make an announcement to Edomia, they deserve to know what’s going on,” he said, anxiety written along every line of his worries face. Alec stood too, and pressed a gentle kiss to the King’s forehead and twined their fingers together on their clasped hands.

“You’re going to make a wonderful king, Magnus. The people will see that- they’ll know that you won’t let them down,” the Nephilim soothed, and a shy smile tugged at Magnus’ lips.

“You really think so?” 

Alec nodded. “I  _ know _ so,” he said, confidently. “And I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

“Thank you, Alexander,” the warlock whispered and pulled the younger man into a long, deep kiss to show his gratitude.

Behind them, Izzy grinned and Jace couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran through his body as he felt the intensity of Alec’s love for this man flood the bond like a wave.

“Get a room!” Jace laughed and Magnus broke the kiss off to step back from Alec and mock-glare at the blonde.

“We  _ did _ ,” Magnus retorted, with a roll of his cat-eyes, “but you’re currently using it as a makeshift infirmary.”

Silence settled over the four, and it hung heavily for a few seconds until Izzy spoke up.

“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as Catarina gives Jace the all-clear,” she said kindly, before turning to Alec with affection shining clearly in her eyes. “I bet you’ve been missing home, big brother.”

Automatically, Alec glanced to Magnus- who had frozen in place, a frown pulling his mouth down and a crease between his brows. Despite not knowing what exactly he’d wanted the King to say, the lack of argument from Magnus to keep Alec at the castle sent a spike of sadness through his veins. 

“Er, yeah,” he stammered, sadness pulsing through his veins. “Yeah I’ve missed home. It’ll be good to be back.”

That seemed to break the warlock out of his trance and the older man’s cat-eyes rested on Alec. The warlock held his hand out to Alec, who took it immediately and twined their fingers together. The Nephilim’s breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that Magnus had never wanted Alec to leave the castle- leave _ him _ .

“I actually had a slightly different proposition,” Magnus said, eloquent as ever.

The three Lightwoods listened carefully to what Magnus said next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: general violence, stabbing, torture, emotional pain/angst
> 
> hope you enjoyed (you know what i mean!) comments and kudos keep me motivated to edit the final chapter lmao
> 
> love u all <3


	9. Seen the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s the final chapter, i hope it’s as good you hoped it would be <3 
> 
> ps, i can’t believe how many people’s choice awards we won and HARRY AND SHELBY ARE GOING TO BE AMAZING PARENTS!!

Barely an hour later, Magnus, as well as Alec and his siblings, were in the throne room. Evening sun flooded through the windows, basking the regal space with gentle fading light as Magnus sat atop his rightful place in the King’s throne. The throne was made of gold- a tall back but with a narrow padded seat- and shone brightly in the natural light as it glinted off the gems that were moulded into the metal work.

The marginally less impressive throne to his right was empty, but Alec and Jace stood proudly on Magnus’ right- their bodies the perfect embodiment of a solider- and Izzy was standing to the warlock’s left. Her back was straight and she’d snapped her whip into a rigid staff that she held with practised ease at a diagonal across her chest- perfectly poised and beautifully dangerous. 

Luke, Clary and Catarina stood facing the four, and at Magnus’ nod Catarina pushed her hands out in front of her and the air began to glow yellow. 

“Everyone in Edomia will be watching,” Luke said, “Are you sure you want to do this, your Highness?”

Magnus didn’t even pause to look at the Lightwoods standing on either side of them before nodding. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Luke ascended the dais to stand next to Isabelle- two soldiers on either side of the king. “Catarina, you may commence.”

The blue lady intensified her magic until the air was illuminated like sunlight.

A smile graced Magnus’ lips as he started his speech.

“My dearest Edomians,” Magnus began, his voice warm. “I wish to inform you of a recent turn of events. My father, whom you know as king Asmodeus, has entered the Spiral Labyrinth to reunite with his children. As crown prince, it has fallen to me to take the king’s throne, but I vow to you that I will be better. I will listen when you speak, I will rejoice when you triumph, I will amend the laws that may restrict you from flourishing, starting with the king’s guards. 

“My father went against the advice of chief commander Lucian Greymark, and decided to recruit his own king’s guards to protect both him and the citizens of our city. I heard your worries- that the guards were too blood-thirsty, and too eager to arrest without reason; that will end now. Commander Greymark’s team will be posted around the city and my father’s team is dismissed as of now.”

From next to Catarina, Clary beamed at Luke, pride for her step-father shining from her like a beacon.

Magnus turned to Jace and Alec, his smile softening to something more sincere before he stood up, stepped forward, and gestured for them to stand either side of him. The three faced Catarina’s magic head-on.

“Dearest citizens, I introduce to you Alexander Lightwood and Jace Lightwood, valiant soldiers who have survived in the hands of enemies so they could return to their new king. I am delighted to tell you that they will now be my Advisors, and bestowed with a Lordship each. Lords Alec and Jace- do you accept the position of Advisor to your king, and promise to guide him with insight, honesty and integrity?”

The brothers knelt, one clenched fist placed over the left side of their chest, heads bowed to the ground.

“We promise,” the Nephilim said in unison, voices deep and powerful.

Magnus placed a hand on Jace’s shoulder, “Rise, Jace Lightwood, as an Advisor of the king.” Jace stood, and Magnus placed a pin in his palm that he clipped onto the leather front of his jacket.

Magnus turned to his lover and placed on his shoulder too, squeezing reassuringly. “Rise, Alexander Lightwood, as an advisor of the king.” Although the warlock’s voice didn’t audibly sound different, Alec could identify the exact moment that the situation sunk in for Magnus (he was king, and he had found a way to keep his boyfriend -and his boyfriend’s family- at the castle) as his eyes glimmered with unshed tears. The Nephilim ached to pull the warlock into a hug, but he couldn’t- not yet. He accepted the pin and clipped it to the same place that Jace had.

Izzy was bestowed the title of Lady, and went through the same ceremony in order to become the King’s personal guard. When Isabelle stood, clipping her own pin on her leather jacket just over her heart, Magnus cleared his throat and stepped forward towards Catarina’s broadcasting magic.

Alec stepped forward with him, and stopped when they were standing perfectly side by side.

“To those of you with knowledge of Alec’s sentencing, I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for deceiving you. I never had any intention to use Alec for what his title had dictated, nor did I have any intention of allowing anyone else to use him for that either. 

“Now I can tell you that in the weeks that we got to know each other, there was a chemistry there that was undoubtable. As an open and honest King, I can tell you that Alexander and I are in a serious relationship. 

“I expect that not all of you will support this, and more of you may not even understand same-sex relationships. But I promise you that my judgement is clear in terms of both decisions for our city, and in loving Alexander.”

From where they stood side by side, there hands found each other, and Alec twined his fingers through Magnus’.

“Dearest citizens, I bid you a safe and restful night, and leave you with the knowledge that I will fight for you no matter what.”

Catarina clapped her hands together and the broadcasting magic disappeared. Alec turned to face the King and drew him into a tight hug, conveying both his congratulations and his support.

From behind them, Izzy and Jace stepped down the dais, with Izzy snapping her staff back into the adamas bracelet that snaked up her wrist.

When the couple broke apart a few long seconds later, Jace clapped them both on the back with a genuine grin.

“Congrats, guys,” he said to them both, his voice void of its usual sarcasm. “Magnus remember that I’ve still gotta give you the shovel talk at some point.”

The warlock glared at Jace without his usual heat, “didn’t you do that when you threatened to kill me through the mirror?”

The blonde shrugged, “Nah, not really. Doesn’t count as a shovel talk if I said I’d kill you with a sword.” 

Alec huffed out a laugh and linked his arm through Magnus’, leading him to the corridor that returned them to Magnus’ -no,  _ their _ \- room. 

Izzy and Jace had followed them back, expecting to be given some duties to attend to, but were instead met with Alec grinning at them uncharacteristically widely and saying “I recommend you make yourselves scarce because the king needs to finish his daily exercises, and as an Advisor I’m duty bound to help him.”

Jace looked confused, mumbling “daily exercises? What dai-“

Their chamber door slammed close, but not quickly enough that Jace and Izzy didn’t see Magnus pull Alec’s shirt over his head and initiate a passionate kiss. The blonde finally understood what exercises we’re going to take place.

“Oh, _ ew Alec! _ ” the blonde exclaimed, a look of indignation in his face.

Izzy smirked at him before yelling “have fun boys!” through the door and dragging Jace back to the throne room to catch up with Luke, Cat and Clary.

*** 

Nobody saw the King and his dark-haired advisor until the next morning, although there were rumours that Ragnor had entered the room on official business and immediately fled the room with his green hands clamped tightly over his eyes as he murmured an incantation to remove recent memories. 

When the couple emerged the next morning, bleary eyes still twinkling and bed hair parted as though the other had been carding their hands through it, Magnus sat at the head of the table with Alec to his right.

A breakfast banquet had been prepared by Simon and was laid out across the large table in abundance as the guests ate and chatted with each other. Ragnor rolled his eyes so obviously it was almost audible as Magnus fed Alec a chocolate covered strawberry.

After they’d finished breakfast, Alec looked around the table, at the people he now trusted the lives of his siblings with: Luke and Clary sat together, opposite Jace and Izzy, with Cat and Ragnor at the other head of the table. 

But if Alec saw the shy glances Jace shot towards Clary as she blushed in response, or noticed the way Izzy perked up and started flirting with Simon as he collected the empty trays, he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

Instead he just sat there with Magnus’ long, ringed fingers twined in his, and realised that he’d simultaneously saved and protected his siblings whilst also meeting the one true love of his life.

Alec smiled to himself, lost in the bubble of happy chatter and laughter of his friends, family, and boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can’t believe i actually finished this! it’s the longest fic i’ve *ever* written and i really hope you all enjoyed it <3   
> thank you so much for all the comments, bookmarks and kudos- they mean the world to me!   
> endless love and hugs, teenwolf24 xox

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos and feedback is appreciated more than I can say!  
> Love and hugs, Teenwolf24 xx


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